Page 95 of The King Contract
“Dream scenario, hey?” Noah grins, curling an arm around my waist and pulling me in close.
“I was referring to the fact I get to wear comfortable clothes, avoid overpriced drinks and thousands of drunk people.”
“Sure, you were.” Noah leans down and kisses me, and I circle my arms around his neck. He’s such a good kisser. It’s easy to get lost in the way his lips move against mine. When hesweeps his tongue inside my mouth, my stomach somersaults and a moan involuntarily slips from my throat.
He leans back to look at me, smirking. “Get inside, you horny devil.”
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating,” I reply innocently, skipping inside. I hear Noah chuckle as he closes the door behind me.
When I head towards the kitchen, the unmistakable fragrances of garlic and onion and herbs waft into my nostrils, my eyes widening in delight when I see the benchtop covered in ingredients and a pot simmering on the stove.
I spin to face Noah. “You’re cooking?”
“You finally get to experience my other meatballs,” he says cheekily. He heads around to the pot and stirs it. “Come, try my sauce.”
I head towards him as Noah scoops a tiny dribble of red sauce onto the wooden spoon. He turns to me, cupping my chin as he steers the spoon into my mouth. He watches me as I taste it, and I can’t help but groan. “Holy moly, that’s good.”
“I know right?” Noah smiles proudly, stirring his pot again.
“You’re right,” I admit. “A man cooking is very effective at wooing a woman. If you had a shirt on, I’d tear it off you.”
“Look at you getting brazen with your sexy talk,” he purrs, pulling me into his hips again.
I fall against him. “You bring it out of me. Plus, that pasta sauce? Perfection.”
“See? I told you.”
I delicately run my fingers over his chest, circling his birthmark a few times, before running them down his six-pack. He has so many muscles and I can’t believe I get to touch them because I want to.
“Stop trying to distract me,” Noah warns.
“I’m not doing anything.” I fight my smile as my hands linger at the waistband of his shorts.
Noah grabs my wrist with a grunt. “You’re not getting out of the reason you’re here.”
“It’s not for heaps of sex?”
Noah huffs. “Well, notonlythat.”
“You sure?”
Noah shakes his head, and I can tell it’s taking a lot of strength to not succumb to sex on the kitchen floor right now. “You brought your camera, right? And your laptop?”
“Yes.” I hear the reluctance in my voice.
“You have any thoughts on what you’re going to do, or do you want to hear my ideas?” Noah pulls me into the living room where we sit on the couch.
“What are your ideas?”
Noah rubs his hands together. “What I said the other day. Host an intimate event at your café. Maybe something in the evening where people can dress up and come eat snacks and look at your stuff.”
“I don’t know if people will want to do that,” I argue.
Noah frowns. “Why not?”
“Because I’m a nobody in terms of photography,” I explain. “People won’t put on a fancy dress and spend their night at a café looking at ten photographs from someone they’ve never heard of.”
“You have an Instagram account with over twenty thousand followers and people actively engaged in your work,” Noah argues. “You’re saying this because you don’t want to take the mask off.”
