Chapter 21 #4
“All right.”
“I don’t know what belongs on the list.”
“We do not need a list tonight.”
“What do we do?”
“We speak to Dr. Whitcomb or Maeve if you want medical guidance. We decide one touch at a time. We never treat yesterday’s yes as today’s answer.”
His breathing began to slow.
“You have thought about this.”
“Constantly.”
“Were you afraid I would think you didn’t want me?”
“Yes.”
“I know you want me.”
“Good.”
His thumb moved over my shirt.
“I like that you want me.”
“Also good.”
“It scares me.”
“We can hold both truths.”
His gaze lowered to my mouth.
“Can we kiss?”
“Yes.”
“Only kissing.”
“Yes.”
I helped us lower onto our sides.
Noah faced me.
The mattress dipped between our bodies.
I placed one hand at his waist and the other beneath his neck, supporting him without trapping him.
He closed the distance himself.
Our mouths met.
Tenderness first.
Then warmth.
Noah kissed slowly, reclaiming control through each decision. His fingertips traced my beard, my cheek, the edge of my hair.
I did not guide his hand lower.
I did not press my hips toward him.
I did not test the boundary he had named.
When he deepened the kiss, I followed.
When he paused, I waited.
His body softened.
The tension eased from his muscles.
His lips parted beneath mine, and his tongue touched mine in a cautious stroke that sent heat through me.
I answered gently.
Noah made a quiet sound.
His hand curled at the back of my neck.
The kiss grew deeper without becoming hurried. He found the pressure he wanted and adjusted when the angle strained his shoulder. Every time his breathing changed, I eased back enough for him to choose whether to continue.
Each time, he came closer.
My thumb moved once beneath his ear.
He shivered.
I wanted more.
Want burned hot and heavy beneath my ribs, but it did not frighten me. It belonged to me. I could carry it without placing it in his hands.
We remained fully dressed.
Space and blankets separated us below the waist.
The kiss still felt intimate enough to ache.
His mouth softened against mine.
He breathed my name.
Not Cal.
Reid.
Awake and certain.
I kissed the corner of his mouth, then his lower lip. His breath warmed my cheek, and his beard rasped softly against my skin.
When I pulled back, he followed for another brief kiss, unwilling to let the contact end on my decision alone.
Then my stomach growled.
Loudly.
Noah smiled against my mouth.
“That was aggressive.”
“I missed lunch.”
“Because of me?”
“Because I cleaned seven windows.”
“You cleaned seven windows while angry.”
“Eight, if we count the office door.”
He laughed.
His laughter loosened the final knot in my chest.
“We should eat,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Can I make sandwiches?”
“With supervision?”
His expression tightened.
I touched his cheek.
“Not supervision. Company.”
He considered the distinction.
“Company.”
We stood together.
His balance held.
In the kitchen, the bread waited on the counter.
I opened the refrigerator and found the blackberry preserves.
Noah stared.
“You refrigerated jam.”
“I was distressed.”
“That may be the clearest evidence yet.”
He made turkey sandwiches while I sliced apples.
Noah remained beside me.
He did not need help.
He also did not push me away.
We ate standing at the counter.
Halfway through his sandwich, he looked at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
He set the sandwich down.
“I love you.”
I stopped chewing.
Color rose across his cheeks, but he did not look away.
“I’m awake,” he said. “I know what I’m saying.”
I swallowed.
He continued before I could answer.
“I don’t remember all the years. I don’t know what our future looks like. I am still frightened. I am angry. Half the time I am confused before breakfast.”
His voice shook.
“But I love you.”
I put down my sandwich.
Noah lifted one hand.
“Do not crush the food.”
A laugh broke through the pressure in my chest.
I stepped close and took his face between my palms.
“You love me.”
“Yes.”
“Today.”
“Yes.”
“Not because the photographs tell you to.”
“No.”
His eye filled.
“I love that you come when I call. I love that you tell me the truth even when I hate it. I love the way your hands feel safe.”
His fingers wrapped around my wrist.
“And I love that you let me be difficult without making me afraid you will disappear.”
I kissed him.
Not fiercely.
The moment was too precious for force.
His lips trembled beneath mine.
I kissed him once, then again, letting the truth pass between us in warmth and breath.
When I drew back, tears had reached his cheeks.
“I love you too,” I whispered. “Awake. Asleep. Angry. Terrified. Every day.”
Noah smiled through the tears.
“You are crushing my sandwich anyway.”
I looked down.
My forearm had folded it in half.
Mustard leaked onto the counter.
“I’ll make another.”
“No.”
He picked up the ruined sandwich.
“This one is fine.”
We finished lunch together.
Later, Noah slept with his head on my chest.
I gave the whistle softly into his hair.
Two short notes.
One long.
He answered without waking.
His fingers tightened over my heart.
This time, he did not need words.