“I’ll admit that part isn’t my dream. But being a designer is. Being recognized for what I love doing definitely is. I just didn’t realize that until I was working on this house.”
“So I guess congratulations are in order.” His languid smile brings a rush of heat low in my belly. It’s only by sheer determination on my part that I don’t melt to the floor.
He takes my hand and leads me into the large walk-in shower. The new white tiles gleam back at us.
Hot water rains on us, forming tantalizing streams down Noah’s muscled chest, abs, legs—and everything in between.
He reaches around me to grab the body wash from the wire rack in the corner, pours some in his hand, and starts cleaning my parts that are eager for his touch. My shoulders, my arms, my breasts. Pretty much everywhere.
That gets a needy gasp out of me.
Not to be left out of the feast, I pour some sugar-and-vanilla-scented liquid into my hands and follow the identical path he took, lathering him with the same erotic touch.
We continue our journey, exploring each other’s bodies, reacquainting ourselves with familiar sounds. Gasps. Moans. Groans.
Our mouths reunite as our hands home in on the parts yet to be worshiped. My soapy hand wraps around his cock. His slippery fingers find the sensitive bundle of nerves between my legs.
“Oh God, Noah.”
We keep teasing each other, pushing one another closer to euphoria. My legs and body quiver with need.
His fingers move away from my core. Before I can moan in protest, his cock is covered, both hands are around my waist, and he lifts me. My legs automatically go around his hips. He readjusts himself so his tip is against my entrance; then he thrusts deep inside me, possessing me, consuming me.
Reminding me what I’ll be missing once I return to Beverly Hills.
He anchors me against the wall and takes me to new heights. Higher and higher and higher we climb until there’s nowhere left to go. My heat clamps down on his length, and I light up like New Years Eve fireworks.
Noah follows me seconds later as he grunts out his release.
For a long moment, we cling to each other, unwilling to let go just yet. My forehead is on his shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around me. We both know this won’t be the last time we make love tonight. We want to make the most of our final hours together while we still can.
Eventually, the cooling water reminds us that shower time is over. We quickly rinse off and get dressed: Noah in jeans and a white T-shirt, me in a floral sundress.
In the kitchen, we gather the food from the fridge and the few dishes that haven’t been packed away. He spreads out a blanket on the grass in the backyard and we sit.
“Mmm,” I groan around a mouthful of food. “This is so good.”
What’s so good? The quiche. They say real men don’t eat quiche. Well, they’re wrong. Because Noah likes it, and you can’t get any more real or male than him.
He also included a baguette from Good Creations, specialty cheese from Cora Ridge Creamery, an assortment of cut meats, berries, and a bottle of white wine.
No one can ever claim Noah isn’t romantic.
We spend the time eating and talking. Talking about the little things that have nothing to do with us as a couple, that have nothing to do with my returning to Beverly Hills. And we also avoid the topic of how we’ll never see each other again after tomorrow morning, when I leave for the airport.
Denial? Currently my best friend.
We laugh and we flirt. And yes, more kissing is involved as we walk hand in hand around the property after we’ve finished eating. We visit with Lady and Scoundrel.
We fuss over them both. Noah has his own horse back at the ranch, but since we’ve been a couple, he’s been riding Scoundrel while teaching me how to ride Lady.
“I’m going to miss you two,” I tell them. “Cleaning your stable? Not so much. But don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll find you a new home soon.”
Both horses nicker and whiny.
The sun is setting as we drive to the ranch. Noah is in his truck; I’m in my rental car.
We spend the rest of the evening pretending today isn’t our last day together. Anyone who sees me has no idea that my heart is moping around in my chest, even though I am excited to return home and start my new career. They see the smiling, laughing, happy Kate. They don’t see the Kate who’s wondering if she’s making a mistake.
