Chapter 30
Thirty
Caroline
We spent the evening cooking together in his penthouse, the city lights blinking on one by one as dusk fell.
Noah let me take charge in the kitchen. He watched as I measured flour for fresh pasta, letting me make a mess, laughing when I splattered sauce on my shirt.
We rolled out the dough, talked about everything—opening day, what to name the breakfast rolls, who to hire. The future felt real, not just something I made up to get through another bad morning.
He poured us wine, then poured me into his arms as the timer for the bread beeped.
We danced barefoot on the cool stone floor, spinning slowly while Nina Simone played from hidden speakers.
He kissed me, soft and sweet at first, then deeper, hungrier.
The rest of the world faded.
He lifted me onto the counter, kissing down my neck, hands bold and searching.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, mouth hot on my collarbone.
I leaned back, letting him explore, skin alive everywhere he touched.
He slid my shirt off, tracing kisses from my jaw to the top of my breast, sucking gently on my nipple until it was tight and aching. He slid his hands lower, bunching the waistband of my skirt, sliding it down over my hips.
He spread my legs, knelt in front of me, and pressed his face against the damp heat between my thighs.
The first lick made me gasp; the second made me whimper. He teased me, slow at first, then faster, tongue flicking over my clit with a relentless rhythm.
I dug my hands into his hair, barely able to breathe as the pleasure built.
He pulled me to the edge, then stopped, watching me with a smile.
“Please,” I begged.
He grinned, then buried his tongue inside me, licking me until I shattered.
I came so hard I nearly knocked the wineglass off the counter.
He stood, wiped his mouth, and kissed me again, letting me taste myself on his lips.
He lifted me, carried me to the bedroom, and laid me gently on the bed.
He undressed, slow and deliberate. His cock was already hard—thick, heavy, the sight of it making me ache to be filled.
He lay beside me, kissing my belly, my thighs, everywhere but where I wanted him most.
I reached for him, stroking the length, loving the feel of his thickness in my hand.
He groaned, then covered my body with his, lining himself up at my entrance.
He pushed in, slow at first, letting me feel every inch. The stretch was perfect, almost too much, but I craved it.
He held still, buried deep, kissing my lips while I adjusted.
Then he moved—long, slow thrusts, building a fire that burned away everything but us.
I wrapped my legs around him, meeting his pace, losing myself in the way he felt, the way he looked at me like I was everything.
We moved together, breath synced, until he drove me over the edge again.
I screamed his name, digging my nails into his back.
He followed, groaning against my ear, coming with a force that left us both trembling.
We stayed tangled in the sheets, sweat cooling on our skin, hearts still racing.
He stroked my hair, kissed my forehead.
“I meant it,” he whispered. “You’ll never face anything alone again. Not as long as I’m here.”
I believed him.
For the first time, I truly did.
We slept in each other’s arms, the city below a thousand miles away.
And in the morning, when he pressed kisses to every inch of my bare skin, I knew this was how forever started.
One night at a time.