17. Noah
Noah
THE SMELL OF freshly baked muffins was not a bad way to start a Sunday morning. I could think of an even better one that involved smooth skin moving on top of mine while soft curls fell around my face, but for now, I could settle for baked goods.
Last night had been a lesson in sweet torture and painful restraint. One my body was still rebelling against this morning as I thought about the sensual way Laurel had responded to my touch.
When I returned to my room last night, I’d spent the better part of the evening kicking myself for pulling back after finally getting the green light.
But then I reminded myself just how explosive it would be if I let those sparks that had flickered build to an all-out burn, and suddenly I was happy I’d left things where I had.
I glanced at the clock to see it was just turning eight, and I wondered if Laurel was still somewhere here at the B she’d cheer. It seemed like the perfect trip down memory lane to warm her to me—right?