“Does any of this feel weird to you?”
Noah cocks his head slightly. “How do you mean?”
“It’s just . . .” I stir my spoon aimlessly, still not looking at him. “I mean, with the whole arrangement we made, and then after all the things we’ve done . . .” I do look up then when the scent of him suddenly thickens, and I can see a flash in his gaze that tells me that at this very second he’s thinking about all of the things we’ve done. It makes me press my thighs together a little tighter under the table. “I just worry that this is all going to blow up in our faces.”
Noah doesn’t answer for a moment, looking thoughtful. Then he clears his throat. “I suppose in some ways, it is weird.”
“Oh.” I feel myself deflate a little. “Right.”
“But,” he adds quickly, letting his fingers slide against my open palm until his middle finger can trace barely-there circles on my wrist. “I’m finding I like a little weird.”
My lips curl in a grin. “Yeah?”
“Mackenzie, I—” He looks mildly embarrassed again, but he manages to hold my gaze. “I’m finding there isn’t much I don’t like where you’re involved.”
That hot, weighted thing inside me might as well be ballooning to fill up all the nooks and crannies of my chest now, and it feels dangerous, allowing myself to bask in it, to take even a moment to revel in the sensation. Maybe it is dangerous, but it doesn’t stop me from doing it, anyway.
“Same,” I say lamely. “I mean—you too.”
His smile really should be illegal, I think idly. I’m almost grateful that he only seems to bring it out when he’s around me; if everyone else knew how good he looks when he smiles, I might have some healthy competition gunning for me.
Wow, Mack, you might as well be writing his name in your notebook with little hearts.
“I was thinking,” Noah says, breaking through my pathetic thoughts. “We’re both off this weekend.”
My pulse picks up. “Yeah?”
“It’s just . . . last weekend.” He clears his throat. “We didn’t have a lot of time to just . . . be, I guess.”
Images flash through my mind, ones of me begging and him thoroughly giving. I press my thighs a little tighter against each other. “We didn’t.”
“I was just thinking . . . If you wanted, that is. No pressure if you don’t, but I was considering how much closer my place is to downtown, and I thought that if you didn’t have plans—which you might, and that’s completely okay—but if you didn’t, I thought—”
A giant of a man who looks like he does and smells like he does should not be this adorable when he’s floundering. “Spit it out, Noah.”
“You could spend the weekend at my place,” he says in a rush. “If you wanted. Just to . . . spend some more time together. See what’s here.”
“It almost sounds like you’re trying to lock me in your bedroom and have your way with me,” I tease.
His eyes darken slightly, his throat bobbing with a swallow. “Among other things,” he tells me slowly, looking half-surprised that he’s said the words. “But . . . I just wanted to spend more time with you.”
My chest might actually burst with the way it continues to swell. I have to bring my bowl to my mouth and sip down the last bits of my soup just to hide the giddy grin on my face, collecting myself for a moment before setting it back on the table and lifting one shoulder in a shrug.
“I’m game if you are,” I tell him, showing much less excitement than I’m feeling in some last-ditch effort to play it cool.
Noah looks relieved, his lips rolling as he wets them and drawing my eye to the movement. At this moment, I can almost imagine myself chucking every last bit of the soup still waiting for me to try in the nearby garbage can just so I can get out of here faster and back to Noah’s bedroom.
I realize then that I might be in real trouble.
20
Noah
“Dr. Taylor?”
I blink, noticing the woman in scrubs looking at me expectantly. “Hm?”
“You okay?” She quirks an eyebrow at me. “You’ve been kind of . . . smiling at the coffee maker for like a full minute. It’s sort of creepy, to be honest.”
“Sorry.” My eyes flick to her name tag. “Jessica.” I frown, her name sounding familiar but I can’t place from where. “Can I help you?”
Jessica smirks. “Been hunting you down for almost an hour. You still haven’t signed off on Mr. Guzman’s chart.”