Page 29 of They Are Mine

Because I have work to do.

And I can’t focus on learning about the man at the gym until Noah is where he belongs.

The doorbell rings, and when I open it, Noah is standing there, holding another bouquet of flowers.

My heart melts.

Pink and white again.

Because he pays attention. Because he cares.

Because he’s mine.

“You didn’t have to bring me more,” I murmur, taking them carefully.

He shrugs, smiling. “I wanted to.”

I beam up at him.

He is so fucking sweet. “You’re amazing,” I say. Because Noah, he needs the praise. Needs to know he’s getting this right and I am his as much as he is mine.

We eat together at my little table, candles flickering between us.

Noah is easy to talk to. He’s soft-spoken, thoughtful, warm.

Every time I refill his plate, he looks at me like I’m some kind of dream.

Good.

After we eat, He leans against the counter as I rinse the plates, watching me.

I turn, drying my hands, stepping closer.

His breath catches as I run my fingers down his arm.

“You want to stay a little longer?” I murmur.

His jaw tightens.

He does.

But he’s too polite. Too hesitant.

Not for long.

Because I push up on my toes, and I kiss him.

He groans into my mouth.

Like he’s been waiting for this.

Like he’s been holding back.

Not anymore.

His hands are on my waist, warm, strong, holding me like I might break.

Noah is sweet. Careful.

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