Page 61 of The King Contract
I chuckle, watching as Noah arrives at the breakers and hops off his board. He wades through the glistening water, tucking his board under his arm and whipping his hair out of his eyes. When he spots me, he flashes me a smile, and I curse myself for the rush of heat that pools between my legs.
“God, he’s hot,” Erin sighs, bumping her hip into mine. “You guys make a cute couple.”
I hide my flat smile behind my chunky camera, holding it up and snapping more photos of Noah as he approaches. These pictures could break the internet.
Erin heads straight into the water for a swim, high-fiving Noah as they pass each other. When Noah stands in front of me, it’s the first time in almost a week we’re alone. The sun might be bearing down on us, salt air filling my lungs and whoops and cheers cutting through the roar of the waves, but when Noah looms over me, it’s like it’s just the two of us.
He nods to my camera. “Get some good stuff?”
“I think so. I need to go through them without the sun glaring down on me.”
His water-speckled chest heaves as he catches his breath. “Come sit for a bit?”
Silently, we walk back to the safety of hot, dry sand, taking shelter under one of the cabanas we erected earlier.
“Not tempted to use my board?” Noah asks, slinging it onto the sand and joining me on the towels.
“As if I’d be able to use that thing,” I scoff. “I need something sturdy.”
I flick through the new shots on my camera, doing my best not to react when Noah leans over my shoulder, beads of seawater falling from his body onto mine. “These aresick,” he gushes.
“I want to upload some of these to sour snaps,” I murmur.
Noah tilts his head to face me. “What’s sour snaps?”
Oh, shit.
“It’s nothing,” I stammer, flicking the camera off. “What are we doing for lunch?”
Noah shakes his head, a glint in his eye as he reaches for his phone in his pile of belongings. “I smell bullshit, Maelstrom.”
“Noah,don’t.”
Noah fishes out his phone, presumably to Google the term and I slap my hands to my face trying to disappear into myself.
“Millie.” I glance at him through my fingers, my heart hammering at the awe-struck look on his face. “These are incredible.”
He scrolls the page, clicking on different photos in silence. I’m frozen in place, my hot cheeks singeing the palms of my hands. When he finally looks back at me, his green eyes are swirling with bewilderment, and dare I think it, pride. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
I shrug, lowering my hands to wring them together. “Because it’s private.”
“This isnotprivate.”
“No one knows who’s posting those,” I explain. “I can be who I want to be and share my photos without worrying what friendsand family think. If strangers don’t like it, they keep scrolling. You can’t really offend people with photos of nature. The Noah King fanbase goes for the jugular and I don’t want my safe space ruined by that.”
Noah’s eyes crease as he surveys me. “I’m not saying we need to publicise this. I’m saying I wish you’d told me. This deserves to be celebrated and shared with friends.”
“Friends?” I ask, ignoring the waver in my voice. “Is that what we are?”
“I hope so.” His frown deepens. “At the very least.”
We stare at each other, allowing the distant squawk of seagulls and whipping of wind across the canopy to fill the silence.
Noah breaks first. “Do you regret it?”
My heart begins to race. “Regret what?”
“The kiss.” Noah captures my gaze with intense eyes. “The couch.”
