No sooner than he says it, he’s there, pushing into me with slow precision.
My moan is instant.
“So fucking soft.” He bites my lip. “So wet.” My jaw.
When his hand retracts, my eyes fly open, my core straining from the loss, but then his finger disappears between his lips.
His eyes flare, and I nearly choke on air. “So fucking sweet.”
I need to come.
His mouth moves back to mine, and he whispers, “You’re about to.”
His fingers drive back inside, dipping in and out as his thumb presses at my clit, his lips playing like a rake against my body. He’s on my chest, my ribs.
He’s everywhere.
I need more.
I whimper, lifting my hips, willing him deeper, and my god, does Noah give me what I want.
He pushes in until the pressure of his hand is hard against my entrance.
“Kiss me,” I murmur, my eyes pinching shut. I moan again, blindly seeking out the warmth of his skin. My hands glide up his pecs, and I start to shake. “Now, Noah.”
He groans, giving me what I want, working my clit over and over, squeezing, pressing, and then holding as my body writhes beneath him, swallowing the sounds coming up from my throat. Sounds I’ve never heard myself make.
Sounds that drive him mad, creating fireworks between my legs.
Noah’s hand leaves me, but his kiss doesn’t.
It deepens, hardens until I cry into his mouth, and then it slows, as if in tune with my orgasm, as if he knew the high my body would reach, and the slow, sated come down it would bring me to.
That he would bring me to.
Noah lies down beside me, but I don’t open my eyes, not yet, and it’s only moments later that he begins playing with the wet strands of my hair.
The need to see him becomes too strong, and as if he senses the second I look at him, his eyes slowly lift to mine.
I blush like crazy and the man smirks, a low chuckle slipping from his swollen lips.
He sits up then, grabbing the long-forgotten clothes he brought me, and he tugs me into a sitting position, pulling the hoodie over my head. His fingers skim along my neck until he’s gathered all of my hair, and he frees it from the thick cotton.
“Should I help with these too?” he jokes, and I snag the bottoms he holds out for me.
“I mean, I don’t know. I still can’t feel my legs so…” I play along, not missing the grin he points at his feet as he slips on dry socks.
Noah climbs out of the tent to put his shoes on, and when I work my way out, zipping up the tent door, he’s coming back from the cab of his truck.
“Here.” He hands me a pair of long socks, and I pull them on over the ‘compression pants,’ which is nothing more than a fancy word for man leggings.
I slip my shoes on next and turn to face him.
His eyes flick over my body, cloaked in his clothes, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip. He yanks me to him, presses his lips to mine, but then tears them away before my hands have a chance to wrap around him.
“Come on, if I don’t get people around you—”
“If this ends with we’ll end up back in the tent … it’s crap for motivating me to move.”
Noah drops his head back, cursing into the air, and I laugh, squealing when he grabs my hand, tugging me toward camp.
When we reach the clearing, he grins at me, squeezing my hand before letting it go.
He cuts left for the ice chests and I head right for the fire, snagging a chair along the way. Cam sits at the edge of the group, circling the bonfire, so I take the empty space beside her.
She’s listening to whatever the boys around are saying, but when she glances my way, she does a double take and spins her entire body to face me. Her head cocks to one side, a single blonde brow lifting as she readies to speak, but her words freeze on her lips when a beer is lowered in front of me.
I drop my head back, looking up at Noah. “Why thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I forget to look away, and his water bottle comes up to hide the grin sneaking over his lips. He begins to walk off, and my gaze travels with him.
Cameron claws at my thighs, so I turn to her. Only then does she realize I’m swallowed by clothes that aren’t mine and my hair is a wet, soppy mess. “Bitch.” She grips the back of her chair, leaning closer. “Did you hump the humble hottie?” she hisses.
I smile, folding my legs up beneath me, and shake my head.
Her eyes narrow. “He played puppet with your puss, didn’t he?”
My head falls back, and I laugh into the air.