I ball my fist in his shirt and tug him toward me. “If you tell me,” I promise, “I’ll use the secret to make sure that whenLorendies, he’s not left in the dirt.” I push forward suddenly, and Noah stumbles back with a laugh.
“Blackmail, Sadie? I thought you were above that.”
“The curiosity is killing me.”
“Can’t you just be grateful that she’s not dead?”
“No, I need details.”
He paces forward, arms crossed over his chest. As much as I like all his flannels, I like it more when he doesn’t wear them. I like to see how his biceps stretch the seams of his shirts.
Forget it, Sadie.
I’m reluctantly tearing my gaze back up toward his face when he releases a whistling sigh and says, “I suppose I could show you how Loren did it.”
“Really?” I frown, suspicious.
He tilts his chin up, playfulness etched in every line of his face. “Sure, if you really want to know.”
He’s up to something, but I’ll play along. “Show me,” I urge. I hold my tablet out toward him. I’ve already queued up the D&D reference guide, full of spells, magic items, and other secrets, ready for him to unlock the mystery.
But he sidesteps the tablet and gently nudges my arm out of the way. He moves forward until his boots knock against the wood of the keg I sit on, until his eyes are a few inches from mine. With his free hand he curves his fingers behind the nape of my neck, tilting my head gently to the side. “It went something like this.” As his breath curls against my cheek, I catch the musky scent of somesort of dark caramel beer before his lips press—justbarely—to mine.
There’s a moment where I think he might have reversed the spell as the shock of the gesture freezes me to a stonelike stillness. And just as the urge blooms in my chest to reach for him, just as my lips part to deepen the kiss—he pulls away.
A beat of silence hangs between us. His fingers toy with the small hairs at the base of my head while my hands flex rapidly where they sit in my lap. He wears a small smile nearly hidden by his beard, while his eyes are bright with a curious, nervous sort of energy. I realize after a moment that he’s gauging my reaction.
I swallow. My voice comes out just above a whisper. “Now show me how Noah would kiss me.”
It’s a challenge—and a question. I have to know.
He doesn’t hesitate.
The first difference I notice is the pressure. Where his imitation of Loren’s kiss had been gentle and light, full of reverence and respect, Noah’s touch is hungry. Confident. His palm skims along the side of my jaw, calloused fingers gripping my chin to pull my face down toward his. This time when he kisses me, I can feel the tickle of his beard against my cheek as his mouth moves against mine, and I can’t help the hum that escapes the back of my throat as his tongue traces a line of heat over my lower lip. I deepen the kiss immediately, suddenly desperate to taste the caramel I’d gotten a hint of before.
His free hand runs down my spine, curls around the curve of my waist, andtugs.I gasp in surprise as he pulls my body forward on the keg, my legs parting to either side of his torso as he presses his chest to mine. I can feel Noah smile against my lips before he draws back enough to meet my eyes.
A surge of amused frustration courses through me. Fuckingtease—always pulling away just when I’m getting started.
But I won’t let him get away with it.
“You did that on purpose,” I accuse. I try to sound harsh, but my breathlessness makes it difficult.
“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to do that on purpose for a while now.”
“No, I mean—” My cheeks heat, and I fix him with a wry smile. “You did it to distract me. You’re avoiding telling me how you brought Jay back.”
“Is it working?”
Damn him.
I don’t bother to respond with words—it’s enough of an answer to lean forward and press my lips to his again. I can feel more than hear his laugh in the vibrations of his broad chest, and I twine my arms around his neck as I wrap my legs around his middle, hooking my ankles together behind his back. Taking my hint, Noah brings his hands from my waist to curve under my thighs. Without even a grunt of effort he lifts me from the keg, and before I know any better, I breathe a moan of delight into his mouth. I tighten my arms around him, but he holds me as if I weigh nothing at all, his fingers digging into my paint-stained jeans and sliding down to cup my ass.
My eyes had fluttered closed ages ago, so when my back meets the cold brick of the wall—the wall I’ve been hired to paint,I think distantly—I inhale sharply in surprise. “You’re okay,” Noah murmurs into the shell of my ear. “I’ve got you.” He draws a line of kisses down the side of my neck to my shoulder and then hums against my skin on the way back up. I bite back a whimper as he exhales against my throat, goosebumps rising on every spot of bare skin that his beard brushes.
An eternity later—or perhaps just a few heartbeats, I can’t tell—Noah slowly eases me back to the floor. My knees are weak, and it takes a moment for me to feel grounded. Even as Noah takes a small step back, the air between us feels charged, like one more stray spark will send us colliding again.
I draw in a shaky breath and glance sidelong at the part of themural I’ve completed. “So,” I say, a note of laughter threading through my words, “same time, same place tomorrow morning?” It’s a joke, in part—and a gentle test of the waters. How much does he want from…this? From me?
