Chapter 30 #4
“An outrageous accusation.”
His touch slowed.
My thoughts scattered.
I pulled him into a deeper kiss.
Gradually, our movements found a rhythm. Separate at first, then closer, our bodies aligned until our hands brushed between us.
Heat gathered quickly.
Noah’s breathing roughened.
I watched his face.
Pleasure moved through him without panic following close behind.
That mattered more than the urgency building inside me.
“Still comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Hip?”
“Fine.”
“Shoulder?”
“Fine.”
“Head?”
He gave me an exasperated look. “Stop performing a medical assessment.”
I smiled.
His grip tightened slightly.
My breath broke.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes.”
His mouth found the side of my throat.
The light scrape of his teeth sent desire through me in a hard pulse.
I caught his waist.
He rolled closer, bringing one thigh carefully over mine. The new angle pressed us together.
His body jerked.
“Too much?”
“No.”
He shifted again.
Friction drew a low sound from both of us.
Noah’s eyes darkened.
“That.”
I moved with greater care.
Our hands remained between us, but the rhythm began to come from our bodies too. Slow pressure. Heat. The weight of him held without strain.
He kissed me.
The kiss lost its careful shape.
Breath, tongue, the occasional meeting of teeth. His hand tightened at my shoulder. Mine spread across his back, keeping him close without trapping him.
His body began to tense.
“Close?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“What do you need?”
“Don’t change anything.”
I didn’t.
Pleasure overtook him first.
He shuddered in my arms, his face pressed beside mine, my name breaking against my throat. The sight of him surrendering without fear pulled me after him.
My hold tightened around his waist as release hit me, strong enough to leave my body shaking beneath his.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
We lay tangled together, breathing into the quiet room.
Noah’s hand rested loosely against me.
Then he began to laugh.
“What?”
“The research had practical value.”
“I’m pleased your afternoon was academically rigorous.”
“I didn’t complete the curriculum.”
“Tomorrow.”
He lifted his head.
“Are you serious?”
“Within the boundaries of medical sense.”
His smile softened.
“Did you miss this?”
“Sex?”
“This version of me. Wanting you without having to fight myself first.”
I thought before answering.
“Yes.”
Pain flickered across his face.
I touched his cheek.
“I missed desire being easy between us,” I said. “I never missed it more than I valued keeping you safe.”
“Both can be true.”
“Yes.”
He looked down at our disordered clothes and the evidence of what we had shared.
“I don’t feel like I’m borrowing his desire now.”
“Whose?”
“The man I was before the accident.”
My chest tightened.
“This belonged to me,” he said.
“Yes.”
“He can keep the memories.”
The eye I could see shone.
“I’ll keep everything else.”
I kissed him slowly.
We cleaned ourselves and returned to bed naked beneath the quilt.
Noah’s hand drifted across my stomach.
“Can we try something?”
“What?”
“I want you to touch me from behind.”
Heat stirred again, but I remained still.
“Only externally?”
“To begin.”
I opened the bedside drawer and found the lubricant.
Noah turned onto his side with his back against my chest. The position kept his injured hip neutral and left his shoulder unconfined.
I kissed the back of his neck.
“Tell me the instant anything changes.”
“I will.”
My hand moved along his waist and over the curve of his hip, avoiding the healing places until he relaxed against me.
His breathing slowed.
I warmed the lubricant between my fingers and touched him carefully.
No pressure.
Only a slow, intimate caress.
His body tensed.
I stopped.
“Where are you?”
“Amber.”
“Do you want my hand gone?”
“No.”
“Should I stay still?”
“Yes.”
I did not move.
I held him without tightening my arm, giving him space even within the embrace.
Gradually, his breathing steadied.
“Again,” he whispered.
I resumed with less pressure.
The tension in him changed. It did not vanish, but desire began to move through it.
His hips shifted toward my hand.
“Green?”
“Yes.”
I kissed his shoulder.
He allowed me to continue for several minutes, guiding me with subtle movements. Each response felt like a fragile language we were building together.
When my touch became more deliberate, his breath caught sharply.
“Stop.”
I withdrew at once.
Noah went motionless.
I wrapped my arm around him.
“No apology.”
“I know.”
“Pain?”
“No.”
“Fear?”
“A little.”
“Do you want space?”
“No.”
He turned within my arms.
Embarrassment remained in his face despite all our rules against it.
I touched his cheek.
“You said stop.”
“Yes.”
“And I stopped.”
“Yes.”
“Nothing was ruined.”
His mouth curved faintly.
“No.”
“That matters.”
He rested his forehead against mine.
“I wanted to continue.”
“You may want it again another day.”
“I hate that I can want something and fear it at the same time.”
“Your body can hold both.”
“Dr. Whitcomb said that.”
“She’s annoyingly perceptive.”
A small smile appeared.
“Stay naked.”
“All night?”
“Yes.”
“We should eat.”
“Later.”
He curled against me, placing his head beneath my chin.
Within ten minutes, he was asleep.
I remained awake a little longer, one hand resting at his back.
The room smelled faintly of rain and clean linen. Marlowe snored at the foot of the bed. Noah’s breathing warmed my chest.
He had stopped me.
I had stopped.
Nothing had broken.
In the quiet after desire, that felt as intimate as anything we had done.