15. Hadley #2
Nothing about this should feel so natural already. Yet Nolan standing in my kitchen with takeout on the counter and his sweatshirt in my living room carries the strange inevitability of something I have been moving toward long before I understood it.
“I know,” I whisper.
His gaze drops to my mouth.
The kiss begins softly, without the desperate edge that usually takes hold when we stop pretending we do not want each other. His hands settle at my waist, steady and warm, while mine slide over his shoulders.
There is still electricity between us. There always is. But this kiss is not driven by restraint finally breaking.
It is honest.
That difference changes everything.
I move closer, and Nolan notices. His hands tighten at my waist before his forehead rests against mine.
“You do that every time,” he murmurs.
“Do what?”
“Come closer when I touch you.”
A fiery blush creeps up my neck, yet my feet remain rooted to the spot. “Maybe I like being close to you.”
His gaze rises to mine, and the look in them steals the teasing response from my mouth.
Nolan never seems prepared for tenderness. It reaches him in stages: surprise first, then disbelief, followed by a careful stillness as though moving too quickly might frighten it away.
His thumb brushes beneath the hem of his sweatshirt where it falls over my hip. “You make it hard to remember I’m trying to behave.”
“Trying?”
“Hadley.” My name roughens in his voice. “I am trying very hard.”
The admission sends warmth low through my stomach.
I know what he means. The same pull lives inside me, growing stronger every time he looks at me like this—open, wanting, and almost wary of how much he wants.
I have spent so long afraid that needing someone would make me a burden. With Nolan, closeness feels less like surrender and more like being allowed to rest.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“That this should probably scare me more.”
His brow furrows, and his lips press into a thin line. “Being here with me?”
“No.” I slide my hands to the back of his neck. “How natural it feels.”
He goes still.
The words seem to reach somewhere deeper than I intended. Nolan lets out a quiet breath and looks down for a second, as if he needs the distance to gather himself.
“You cannot say things like that when I’m already struggling to think.”
A smile pulls at my mouth. “You asked.”
“I’m learning that asking you questions is dangerous.”
“You bought a collapsing marina. Clearly, you enjoy risk.”
His laugh brushes across my skin before he kisses me again.
This kiss deepens. One of his hands moves up my back beneath the sweatshirt, the careful drag of his palm sending a shiver through me.
“Cold?” he asks against my mouth.
“No.”
His gaze darkens at the breathless answer.
“Good.”
I kiss him before he can say anything else.
A low sound catches in his throat, and the restraint between us frays.
Nolan draws me so close that my breath catches, the air thick with a burning tension that leaves no space for anything but his touch.
My fingers slide into his hair. His mouth moves over mine with a patience that feels more consuming than urgency ever could.
I understand then how easy it would be to lose myself in him.
The frightening part is that I do not feel lost.
I feel found.
Nolan pulls back only far enough to rest his forehead against mine. Both of us breathe unevenly, neither willing to move away.
“I can’t decide whether I want to take this,” he says, “or skip ahead to the part where this is the rest of my life.”
The breath leaves me.
He watches me as though the honesty surprises him too, but he does not take it back.
“You can’t say things like that,” I whisper.
“Apparently, I can.”
“And then what am I supposed to do?”
His nose brushes mine. “Stay.”
One word.
No demand. No pressure. Only a quiet hope offered between us.
This time, staying does not feel like something I do for everyone else.
It feels like a choice I get to make for myself.
Nolan guides me to the couch to begin his magic, covering every inch of exposed skin in his searing kisses, leaving my body warm and willing.
But he doesn’t press me for more; the only pressing he does is with the stiff cock in his pants that he keeps rubbing against my center, leaving my panties soaked.
I imagine that we look like two horny teenagers going at it when our parents are out.
He is proving to be a selfless man, only wanting to taste me and growling every time I pull back to ask if I can explore his body.
Reaching up, I weave my hand through his dark hair, loving the feel of the strands as they slide through my fingers.
“I want you, Nolan,” I whisper.
“Good, because if I keep rubbing against you, I’m going to come in my pants, and I’d rather come inside you.”
Quickly he strips me of my clothes, tossing them somewhere over his shoulder. The smoldering gaze he trails across my skin leaves tiny goose bumps over my flesh.
We sink into the couch together, our mouths still connected, my nearly naked body beneath his clothed one.
His hand travels along my ribs, stopping just shy of my breast. My nipples stand at attention for him, seeking his touch.
And finally, after a few agonizing minutes, he pulls away from my mouth and turns his attention to my hardened peaks.
Gazing at me with his large hand cupping my breast, he says, “Your tits are perfection. The perfect size and so sweet.”
He moves his focus to the overlooked breast and starts to suckle the nipple with intense urgency.
“Nolan,” I groan as I shift my hips against him. My lower half is awake and needy, wanting his focus.
“Need me somewhere else, sweetheart? Where do you want me now?”
Rocking my hips against his shorts-covered erection, I try to wordlessly get my point across, but the stubborn man shakes his head as he presses a kiss to my navel.
“I need to hear you say it. Tell me where you want me.”
“Nolan,” I growl, but he simply continues to stare at me, waiting.
“Fine. I want your mouth on my pussy.”
If it was possible, Nolan’s grin grows two times bigger than I’ve ever seen as he slides my panties down my legs, tossing them over his shoulder into oblivion.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it? I’m going to have you screaming my name in no time.”
“Promises. Promises.”
I shouldn’t doubt Nolan. Ever. Because not even two minutes into his fingers and tongue working their magic on my clit and sex, I’m coming apart at his command. My legs tremble on either side of his body as I struggle to come back into myself.
“You’re delicious. I could feast on you all day.”
“If this is the outcome every time, then I absolutely will allow it. Now, get naked. It’s not fair that you still have your clothes on.”
“I didn’t want the distraction, because if my cock came anywhere close to your pussy, it was going to act selfishly.”
“Well, now I’m acting selfishly. Get. Naked,” I demand as I tug on his shirt in an attempt to lift it over his head.
Nolan rises from the couch, his movements excruciatingly slow, and stands tall.
I’m not sure how men learned to do it, or realized that it’s one of the sexiest ways to remove clothing, but he reaches behind his head with both arms and bunches the back of his shirt in his hands before lifting it over his head.
His muscles flex with the movement, and I take my time savoring the expanse of bare skin before me.
Moving onto my knees, I lift my hands onto his shoulders, then slide them down his chest, his muscles contracting under my touch.
I repeat the motion down his abdomen, my fingers sliding in and out of the crevices of his taut abs.
He throws his head back and groans when I reach the waistband of his shorts, the tips of my fingers sliding just past the material.
The button on his shorts pops open easily, as if it were also waiting for my touch. Skimming my hands to his backside, I push down his shorts and boxers in one movement with his assistance. His cock springs free, and it is as glorious as I had remembered. Long and thick and stiff.
Tenderly, I reach out and wrap my hand around the base of his shaft, the skin feeling so soft against my palm—a complete contrast to the firmness of his erection.
My hand slides up and down, as I listen to every groan and growl falling from Nolan’s lips.
A bead of moisture sits on the tip of his cock, and I boldly lean down and lick it away.
The saltiness in my mouth is not completely unwelcome. He tastes just as good as he looks.