One Last Time(47)

I’m teetering on losing my restraint and taking over. Instead of fucking this whole thing up with her, I have to stop this now.

I start to pull back, but she clutches me tighter.

“Kristin,” I say as I pull her wrists down. I take a few steps back, giving us a little space to breathe. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What am I thinking? She got divorced today, and I’m here dry humping her on her goddamn table. “I need . . .”

“What did I do wrong?” she asks with pain in her voice.

“What?” I ask, moving back toward her.

“You . . . you stopped. I-I’m . . . I don’t know what I did. I’m sorry.”

Jesus Christ. She thinks I stopped because she did something wrong? “You didn’t do anything wrong, Kristin. I was wrong to do this to you today.” I move my fingers against her slightly swollen lips.

She takes my hand in hers, dropping it to her legs. “Do this to me?”

“You got divorced today, and I’m an asshole for touching you.”

Kristin lets out a mix between a snort and a giggle. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but it’s cute as hell. “You think you’re an asshole? First of all, I attacked you in my kitchen. Even if we take that out of the equation, you are the absolute last person I would call an asshole today. You want to know something?”

I want to know all her somethings. “What?”

“You helped me today without even being there. Scott, my ex,” she clarifies without needing to, “he tried to make me feel . . . well, like he’d normally make me feel, but you stopped it. What you said to me the other day, it meant more than you’ll ever know.”

Kristin’s eyes fill with tears, and my chest starts to ache. “Don’t cry,” I beg. A crying woman is my freaking kryptonite. Do you hug them? Tell them it’s okay? I’ve made that mistake before, told my girlfriend it would be all right before an explosion of how not all right it is happened.

She wipes her cheeks and sniffles. “I’m telling you that you’re not an asshole, Noah.”

“You don’t really know me yet.” I try to lighten the mood with a joke.

“Idiot.” She laughs.

“I am that.” I smile and remove the tear that’s about to fall.

It’s in my DNA to fix things. I’m a man; it’s what I do. If there’s a problem, then the solution is somewhere, and I’ll find it. Kristin crying because I stopped kissing her isn’t one I’ve encountered before.

I also don’t think kissing her to make it stop is the right choice.

Do I stand here?

“I . . . I liked kissing you.”

Maybe she does want me to kiss her. “Kris, I’m more than happy to kiss you,” I say pushing her brown hair back. “I’ll kiss you all night if it means you won’t cry.”

Her eyes lift to the ceiling and she grumbles. “Great. Now I’m guilting you into making out with me.”

I take her face in my hands, bring her head down, and wait for her to look at me. She looks lost. The free, sexy, confident woman who took what she wanted is gone. I want her back and will do whatever I have to in order to accomplish that.

“I want nothing more than to bring your lips to mine. I want to kiss every inch of you, make you forget everything except me, and then make love to you until we collapse. You don’t have to guilt me, you just have to say the word, and I’m right here.”





Chapter Twenty





Kristin





It’s been too long since I’ve felt so desired. A part of me doesn’t believe it’s possible, but there’s no mistaking the look in his eyes.

Noah wants to do everything he said.

He doesn’t move a muscle as he waits for me to say something.

Instead of speaking, thinking, or talking myself out of this, I feel.

My hands move from my lap to his stomach. Our eyes stay locked as my fingers make their way under his shirt. I take my time exploring his chest, feeling his muscles beneath me as we both breathe each other in.

I slide my hand higher, pulling the hem with me as I go. He doesn’t say a word as he removes his hands from my face and raises his arms, allowing me to inch the shirt higher and then over his head before throwing it to the floor.

“You ready to make good on your promise?” I ask with more bravado than I actually have.

I’m ready to live.

I’m ready to feel.

I’m ready to give myself permission to take chances.

Noah gives me his cocky smirk, which sends a current through my veins. His hands grab my ass, and he pulls me against his very noticeable erection. “What do you think?”

I think I’m about to pass out, that’s what I think.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admit.

For years, it’s been a chore. One that, according to Asshole, I wasn’t good at. I’ve learned to sort of sit back and take what I can get. Noah clearly doesn’t want that, but I’m terrified I’ll disappoint him. I’m not sure I could survive being mediocre to him.

“You’re in control,” he tells me as his lips ghost over mine. “Take what you want, sweetheart. I’ll give you as much or as little as you say.”