12. Noah
Chapter twelve
Noah
“ I want to kiss you.”
For a second, I wonder if I’ve imagined it, if I’ve let my own damn mind twist her voice into the one thing I’ve been aching to hear all day. My breath snags, something quiet and unmistakable stirring low in my gut. I look at her closely. Because I need to be sure.
“Are you sure? I mean, I want to, but…” The words slip out rougher than I mean them to, scraping up from somewhere deep, where all the control I’ve been holding onto is wearing thin.
She doesn’t speak, not at first. Just this small shift, barely there, her teeth catching her bottom lip like she’s steadying herself. Her eyes find mine and hold, unblinking and unguarded, and then she nods slowly.
That nod wrecks me and throws all my reasoning out of the door. Everything inside me tightens and pulls, snapping the last thread of distance I’ve been gripping. I should not be touching her, should not be giving in to this; Josie should be on my mind.
Instead, I step in close, still giving her space to change her mind because I know the minute I touch her, there will be no going back. She doesn’t step back even as the distance between us narrows; her breath stirs against my chin, soft and uneven, and I can feel the tremble in the air between us.
My hand lifts, fingers brushing her jaw, light at first, testing the way her skin feels under mine.
“If I kiss you…I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.” My voice sounds hoarse even to my ears. “It’s not too late for me to walk out of that door."
She closes her eyes and leans into the touch, and that simple movement steals the ground from under me, alongside whatever restraints I’m still clinging to. My thumb traces the line of her cheek, slow enough to feel the warmth rising beneath her skin.
I lower my head, close enough to catch the faint scent of her shampoo, vanilla, and a clean sweetness that’s uniquely hers. My lips hover, waiting, offering her the space to pull away, but she doesn’t. She raises her head, her breath catching, and that’s all the answer I need.
The first press of my mouth against hers is carefully restrained; like I’m testing something dangerous. I can feel the heat radiating from her body, and it's like a wildfire igniting inside of me. Our tongues dance together, exploring each other with a primal hunger.
I can taste the faint hint of tea on her lips, adding a delicious depth to the kiss. She presses closer, soft and yielding, and I can't help but let out a soft groan. It’s like an electric shock, sending sparks through every nerve in my body, and I never want it to end.
I cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer and sinking deeper into her. I feel her fingers fist lightly the flesh of my chest, and the soft, tentative sigh she lets out is enough to undo me. Her lips move against mine, and everything sharp and guarded inside me gives way to the pull of her.
My other hand settles at her waist, and she leans into me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like we’ve always fit this way. I pull her closer until there’s nothing left between us, and the kiss deepens.
She lets out a sound that seems to come from deep within her throat and pulls back; her hands stay on my chest, but her lips part from mine, and the air between us sharpens with the absence of her mouth.
She looks up, eyes wide, breathing hard, like the world tipped sideways, and she’s trying to catch her balance. I freeze, hands loosening at her waist, waiting for the part where she tells me this was a mistake. My heart’s pounding so damn loud I can barely hear the silence stretching between us.
I search her face, looking for regret, but all I see is the same wild, unsteady want that’s tangled up inside me. So, why is she stopping? I’m so full and aching that I feel I may burst at any moment.
I step back, enough to give her space but not enough to hide the fact that I’m still breathing her in. My body’s strung tight, the ache of her still lingering on my lips, and every part of me fights the urge to pull her right back into my arms.
I give her a once-over, and hell, I must’ve been too caught up in the heat between my legs to notice what she’s wearing until now. As my eyes drag down her body, tension coils through me like a live wire, and I bite back a groan as my balls tighten painfully.
She’s standing there in another one of those damn nightgowns, similar to one from the night of the storm. But this one’s even thinner, silk clinging to her like it was made for her body alone, catching the low light and tracing over every soft, perfect curve.
The straps are thin enough to make a man lose his damn reason, one hanging off her shoulder like it’s begging for me to put it back. The fabric dips low, revealing enough to scramble my thoughts, her nipples pressing against the silk, making it impossible not to notice.
The hem skims her thighs high enough to tease my imagination, her bare legs catching the faint glow from the kitchen, smooth and toned, probably from all the running. The way the silk shifts and hugs her hips with every small, unsteady breath she takes, it damn near undoes me.
I’ve always believed a woman with a kid would trade lace and silk for flannel and oversized tees, maybe even those old, shapeless things most people call comfortable. But Kate, she’s standing here wrapped in temptation. Sweet, soft, unguarded temptation that looks too good and too wild to be real.
My throat goes dry, and my hands flex at my sides, fighting the urge to close the distance, to pull her back in and feel the skin barely hidden beneath that thin layer of fabric..
I want to tear the rest of the night away, strip the air between us bare until there’s nothing left but the sound of her saying my name. She doesn’t move, just stands there, chest rising and falling, the flush on her skin deepening the longer I look at her.
And hell, I know she sees it too; the way my body’s reacting, hard and unashamed, pressing against the front of my sweatpants like all the blood in my body rushes south and stays there.
Her lips part, and she lets out a quiet, shaky breath. Her fingers curl into the fabric between us, “I was wondering if I wanted to stop.”
She shakes her head, “I’m trying to decide if this is a mistake and if I want to stop.” She now sounds out of breath and is so close to panting. “But I want this, Noah.”
My fingertips tingle with an electric current as I brush them against her waist. I can’t resist the urge to run my fingers through her soft hair.
“Fuck, I thought you wanted me to stop,” I say as I drag her close to me again. I don’t know what the woman is doing to me, but I know I’m losing my mind.
Her lips are full and pink, parted slightly as she looks up at me through her long lashes. The dim light from the kitchen dances on her face, illuminating her features in a warm glow.
I can see her perfect lips inching closer to mine, their fullness glistening with a light sheen of lip moisturizer. Her eyes flutters closed, long lashes brushing against her cheeks.
Her hand reaches up to cup my cheek, pulling me in closer. The warmth of her skin radiates towards me, making me ache with desire.
I lean closer and breath in her scent fully, a mix of vanilla, jasmine, and something uniquely her own. My heart races as I drink in her intoxicating aroma, the desire in me growing stronger with each passing second.
My hands cup her face as I bring my lips to hers, feeling the softness of her skin against my palms. I pull her closer, reveling in the feel of her body pressing against mine.
When our lips finally meet again, I revel in the combination of sweet and spicy that’s uniquely Kate. The taste of her lips is like ambrosia, sweet and addictive. I can't get enough.
Her lips are soft and plump as they press against mine, her fingers tangling in my hair. Every brush of her tongue against mine sends shivers down my spine. I can feel her heart racing against my chest, warmth radiating through every layer between us.
I can feel her heart, wild and pounding against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. The heat pouring off her is enough to make my head spin, and the longer I hold her, the more I know there’s no going back. Not now. Not after this.
She lifts her arms for me, quiet and trusting, and I peel the nightgown over her head slow enough to make my hands shake. The fabric slips away from my hand silently, falling to the floor in a soft, silken puddle at her feet.
She stands there proudly and unashamed.
Bare. Glowing. The soft, golden light from the kitchen hits her skin just right, painting shadows across the lift of her breasts, down the dip of her waist, following the lines of her hips.
She’s perfect, too perfect, soft curves and flushed skin, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, nipples tight and begging for my mouth.
I run the back of my knuckles along her side, from the soft fullness of her breast down to the sharp point of her hip, slow enough to memorize every inch of her. Her skin is warm and smooth, and she shivers under my touch. She stares at me, eyes dark and half-lidded. Her lips still wet from mine.
“You’re beautiful,” I breathe. “No, you’re the most perfect woman I’ve ever seen.”
I lean forward to kiss the hollow of her throat, feeling the rapid thud of her pulse. My lips trace down between her breasts, lingering there before moving lower, making a path along her stomach. Her skin shivers under each kiss.
Her breathing quickens as I work my way back up, cupping one breast in my hand while trailing kisses across the swell of the other.
Her nipple is taut and inviting in front of me.
I can feel her body quiver as I circle the peak with my tongue, teasing it relentlessly before pulling it into my mouth.
Her back arches in response, pressing her breast against my lips, urging me to take more of her.
I can hear a soft moan escape her lips, and it spurs me on, igniting a deeper hunger in me.