Chapter 94
“Noah, I’m really-”
The apology never made it out.
He crossed the space in two strides, his hand catching my shirt like
he’d been waiting his whole life to drag me closer. His mouth crashed
against mine–hard, defiant, the kind of kiss that wasn’t asking but
taking.
Every thought I’d rehearsed, every lecture about boundaries and
danger and professionalism, disintegrated under the press of his lips.
My pulse roared in my ears as he kissed me again, hungrier this time,
his teeth grazing, tongue demanding, heat pouring off him until there
was nothing left in the room but Noah and the parts of me I couldn’t
control.
I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve shoved him back and told him
we couldn’t do this here–couldn’t do this anywhere. But my hands betrayed me, fisting in the damp towel at his waist, holding him closer instead of pushing him away. His kiss tasted like fury and need and something terrifyingly close to devotion, and I was drowning in
- it.
Because no matter how many times I told myself this couldn’t
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happen, Noah wasn’t giving up the chase.
And God help me, I wasn’t sure I wanted him to.
Noah’s hands worked their way under my shirt, and I felt the fire
burning as our bare skin pressed against each other. He pulled my
shirt up over my head before lowering his lips to one of my nipples,
flickering it with his tongue. My body shuddered when he pushed the
waistband of my pants and boxers down my legs, lowering himself to
my cock. I stepped out of my pants but pulled Noah up and against
the door, pinning him to it with my body.
“I owe you an explanation for my actions, but first, I would like to
apologize,” I whispered against his ear.
My hands slid under his arms, catching his wrists and pinning them
above his head, flat against the door. His body jolted at the contact,
but he didn’t resist. God, he never resisted. He gave me everything I
asked for and more. I bent low, kissing him again, then dragging my
mouth down his throat, tasting the salt of his skin, tracing the line of
muscle to his chest.
One of his nipples was already hard beneath the loop, a perfect
target. I caught it between my teeth, tugging just enough to draw out
a moan that vibrated straight through me. My free hand skimmed
lower, undoing the towel in one flick. It fell useless to the floor, and 1
wrapped my fingers around his cock–hard, hot, perfect. The sound he
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made damn near undid me.
I stroked him slow, deliberate, watching his head tip back against the door, his mouth falling open in surrender. I wanted to memorize him
like this–stripped, trusting, wrecked.
I let go of his wrists, and for a moment he didn’t move, like he wasn’t sure he could. Then I slid down, kissing my way along the ridges of his abs, nipping at his hip bone, savoring every sound he gave me.
I wasn’t the man who got down on his knees. I was the one who took -who had his cock worshiped while others knelt. But ever since the first time I’d tasted Noah, I’d been hooked. The weight of him on my tongue, the clean heat of his skin, the way his scent filled my head until nothing else existed. Every tug of his fingers in my hair, every sharp breath as his hips stuttered forward–Christ, it was intoxicating. His taste spread across my tongue, slick and addictive, and I swallowed it like it was the only thing keeping me alive,
For weeks I’d wanted this again. And now here I was–not Mr. A, but
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
