Chapter 12 #4
His eye opened.
“Yes.”
His fingers twisted in my shirt.
“Again.”
I kissed him more slowly.
His lips parted beneath mine, uncertain at first, then answering. He tilted his head with a familiarity that might have come from instinct, muscle memory, or nothing more mysterious than wanting me.
I did not care which.
His mouth was softer than I remembered.
Exactly as I remembered.
The contradiction hurt.
I kept the kiss restrained.
No demand.
No expectation.
No hunger he would be forced to manage.
Then Noah made a low sound and leaned closer.
His right hand slid from my chest to my jaw. He traced the edge of my beard before curling his fingers against my face and holding me there.
The kiss deepened because he chose it.
Heat moved through me, immediate and fierce.
I contained it with every fragment of discipline I possessed.
My thumb stroked once beneath his ear.
Noah shivered.
His tongue brushed cautiously against my lower lip.
I opened for him.
The contact lasted only a moment, but it changed the temperature of the room. His breath caught against my mouth. His fingers tightened, drawing me closer until the angle pulled against his brace.
I eased away at once.
His forehead came to rest against mine.
We were both breathing unevenly now.
“You taste familiar,” he whispered.
I shut my eyes.
“Do I?”
“Not like remembering.”
“No.”
“Like something I wanted before I understood that I wanted it.”
My heart ached.
From the other side of the room, Maeve cleared her throat gently.
Noah jerked back.
Color flooded his face.
I had forgotten she was there.
“I apologize,” I said.
“There is no need.”
Maeve began packing away the blood-pressure cuff.
“This is not a conventional home visit, but I’m prepared to classify it as productive.”
Noah gave a weak laugh.
His hand remained in mine.
Maeve stood.
“Both of you need rest.”
She gave me a pointed look.
“No work for Noah today. Minimal work for Reid.”
“I own a boatyard.”
“You employ people.”
“Technically.”
“Use them.”
She checked the medication schedule one final time before crossing to the door.
Then she looked back at us.
“Recognition does not need to arrive as a complete story to be real.”
Noah lowered his gaze to our joined hands.
Maeve left.
Silence settled over the apartment.
I remained beside Noah, suddenly uncertain in a way I had not been before the kiss.
He studied me.
“You’re thinking too loudly.”
“I’m trying to determine what you need.”
“Ask me.”
“What do you need?”
He drew a long breath.
“To sit here.”
“All right.”
“And for you to stop acting like kissing me was a neurological crisis.”
A laugh escaped me.
“I am not doing that.”
“You look ready to phone Dr. Whitcomb.”
“I am considering it.”
“No.”
“She should know about the memory association.”
“The memory association?”
“The whistle. The touch.”
“Not the kiss.”
“That is private.”
“Good.”
His mouth curved.
My gaze found it immediately.
Noah noticed.
“You want to kiss me again.”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you?”
“You’re exhausted.”
“I’m sitting down.”
“You nearly fell asleep while Maeve took your blood pressure.”
“I was bored.”
“You took six supported steps during physical therapy.”
“I survived.”
“You also cried enough to worsen your headache.”
He touched his temple.
“That part may be true.”
I brought him water.
He drank, then leaned into the cushions.
“What does this mean?”
His voice had quieted.
“What do you want it to mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then it means we kissed.”
“That’s all?”
“For now.”
He looked dissatisfied.
“You aren’t going to say we’re together again.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you kissed me once.”
“Twice.”
“Still inadequate evidence.”
His eye narrowed.
“You’re aggravating.”
“You remembered that.”
A smile escaped him.
Then it faded.
“I meant what I said yesterday.”
“About what?”
“Wanting to meet you.”
“I know.”
“I still want the date.”
“Tonight may be too much.”
“Not tonight.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Maybe.”
“Decide tomorrow.”
He nodded.
“And until then?”
“Nothing changes unless you ask for it.”
His gaze moved slowly over my face.
“I might ask.”
“I hope you do.”
The honesty brought color back to his cheeks.
He shifted closer.
Only slightly.
Enough that our knees touched.
“Can I see what it feels like again?”
“The whistle?”
“The kiss.”
My pulse jumped.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
I waited.
“But I want to.”
“That can be enough, provided you understand you can stop at any point.”
“I understand.”
I lifted my hand toward his face.
Noah watched every movement.
My palm settled carefully against his jaw, and my thumb traced the line beneath his lower lip.
His breath caught.
I kissed him with the same patience.
This time, Noah responded immediately.
His right hand slid into my hair. His fingers closed at the back of my head, drawing me toward him. The sudden movement pulled his injured arm awkwardly against the brace.
He made a soft sound.
I stopped.
“Pain?”
“The brace.”
“That’s enough.”
“No.”
“Noah.”
“Change the angle.”
Desire darkened his voice.
The sound went through me.
I moved to his right side so he could lean without twisting his hip. Noah settled against the couch, supported by the cushions. I braced one hand beside his shoulder, keeping my weight away from him.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
His fingers tightened in my hair.
He pulled me down.
Our mouths met again.
The kiss grew warmer.
Noah explored without pretending certainty. He learned the shape of my mouth instead of remembering it. His thumb moved along my cheek. His lips parted beneath mine, and his tongue touched mine briefly before retreating.
I waited.
He came back on his own.
The second stroke was slower.
More deliberate.
A quiet sound moved from him into my mouth.
Heat gathered between us until every place we touched became painfully vivid. His hand in my hair. My thumb beneath his ear. His knee resting against mine. His breath warming my face.
His body knew enough to lean toward me.
Mine knew far too much.
I remembered how he kissed when he was impatient. How he bit gently at my lower lip when he wanted to provoke me. How his breath changed just before he lost control.
But this Noah deserved to be kissed without the weight of everything I knew.
I followed what he gave me.
Nothing more.
His lips moved against mine with growing confidence. His fingers flexed in my hair. When I angled my mouth and deepened the kiss, he answered with a rough inhale that tightened every muscle in my body.
I wanted him.
The truth was fierce, immediate, and inappropriate to the fragility of the moment.
I wanted to gather him against me. To taste the skin below his ear. To hear the sounds his body had once given me without hesitation.
But desire was mine to manage.
Not his burden.
I ended the kiss before hunger could become pressure.
Noah’s eye opened.
Dazed.
Bright.
His lips were flushed.
“Why did you stop?”
“You need sleep.”
“Everyone says that after something interesting happens.”
“You’re slurring.”
He frowned.
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
His mouth moved, preparing an argument.
Then he yawned.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Unrelated,” he said.
“Obviously.”
I rearranged the cushions so his injured side remained supported.
Noah caught my wrist before I could move away.
“Stay until I fall asleep.”
“I’m staying all afternoon.”
“Here.”
“Yes. Right here.”
He settled onto his right side.
Marlowe climbed onto the rug beneath the couch.
I sat close enough for Noah to reach me and offered my hand.
He laced his fingers through mine.
His eyelids lowered.
“Do the whistle.”
I did.
Two short notes.
One long.
Noah’s mouth curved.
“I found you.”
“You did.”
He fell asleep still holding my hand.