Feeling bolder than I’ve ever felt, I grab his chin and draw him to me. “Then let me kiss you.”
His mouth crashes to mine, the force nearly knocking me backward. Only he catches me with his powerful hands at my lower back. Pressing them along my spine, he draws me to him at the same time. Our chests press together, hearts racing. His mouth leads mine in another mind-numbing kiss that takes all my thoughts other than our lips connected. His tongue rushes forward, and mine meets his, tasting a hint of coffee and mint. With my arms wrapped around his neck and his hands pinning me to him, my back meets the wall, and Noah grinds against me. It wouldn’t take much to tip me over the edge.
He’s been lingering in my apartment all week. He’s been caring and concerned about Jonas. Every little thing has been too much. I’m muddling the issue that he’ll leave with how much I’m enjoying his presence. And his mouth against mine is further proof that he’ll be difficult to let go when the time comes.
“We shouldn’t be doing this here,” he mutters against me, not removing his lips from mine. His hips thrust forward again, and I lift my leg, wrapping one around his thigh. “Fuck.”
I take the expletive as his approval of the position, only I’d like less clothing and more skin contact. As if reading my thoughts, his hands slip under my shirt, skimming up my back. The heat of his touch adds to the arousal of his mouth. I want to feel him everywhere on me.
“God, I want you.” He moves to my jaw, sucking at my chin. “Why do I want you?”
I choke around the questioning tone. “Would that be a bad thing?” My fingers are in his hair.
He nips my neck where my shoulder meets it, and my knees give. I buck forward, and Noah pulls back. His eyes roam down my body where our centers are flush. His hard length is wedged against my eager clit.
After staring a moment at our position, Noah cups my face and takes control of my mouth once again. We kiss like we’ll never see one another after this interlude, and I’m suddenly afraid we won’t. I might never kiss another man like he’s kissing me, and I don’t want to miss one lick, one nip, one tug of my lips. I cling to him until…
Ding-ding.
The old-fashioned bell on the counter rings, and Noah and I break apart like we’ve been caught. Our chests heave. Our breathing heavy.
“I can’t go out there like this.” He waves at his zipper region and swipes a hand down his face.
I nod, unable to speak. My legs shake, but I comb my fingers through my hair, fix the messy bun at my nape, and straighten my shirt. With a final glance at his swollen length, I press off the wall and enter the front desk area.
+ +
“So the bank called,” Noah says to me a few hours later as I stand behind the veranda bar looking for the paper towels I know I stashed here.
“Oh, you heard that, did you?” I huff, still frustrated from our make-out session and his lack of appearance for hours afterward. Also, where are the damn paper towels?
“What did they say?”
I tip my brow at Noah. “Apparently, I suddenly have a lawyer, and the bank manager would like to meet with us in two weeks to discuss my options. Unfortunately, that puts me only two weeks out from Joe’s deadline.” The timing doesn’t leave me much wiggle room. I don’t have a plan B for Jonas and me.
“My brother is a real estate attorney. He said he could help.”
“That certainly explains how my new-found attorney has the same last name as you.”
Noah doesn’t even crack a smile.
Chewing on my lip, I stare at him. God, he’s so good looking and a phenomenal kisser. “Thank you. It was nice of you to speak with him.”
“Yep.” He tips his chin and starts to walk away, but I’m quick to round the bar.
“Did I do something wrong?” I hate that I’m asking. I hate the whine in my voice. But I don’t understand. He kissed me earlier like I was his last breath, but now he’s so distant.
He stops and turns to face me. He steps toward me so fast I step back and bump into the counter behind me. He cups my chin and lowers his voice.
“No, no, you’re doing everything right.” He leans forward, gives me a soft, quick kiss, and pulls away. Then he’s gone as if nothing happened. Did I imagine this kiss? Maybe I dreamed the earlier kiss as well.
I certainly imagined I put paper towels behind the bar.
+ +
About a half hour later, I slam my hand on the front desk countertop, startling Monica. Her head pops up, and she blinks at me behind her glasses.
“I cannot find the paper towels anywhere.”
Monica presses her glasses upward on the bridge of her nose. “Oh, Mr. Weller organized everything. He put all the supplies in the supply room.”
“What supply room?”
“Down by the salon.”
The original salon was once a smoking room with a back room for cards. Now, the space is more like a storage dump of sorts. We don’t keep supplies there because we don’t want stuff out in the open. However, Isaiah did place an old mattress set in the space along with an ancient stationary bike, and I’ve yet to move either item because it takes more than one woman to lift such things.
Stomping across the game room and down the steps to an area we no longer use, I stop short when I see the bed set is gone, the stationary bike removed, and the space is cleared. Spinning in a slow circle, I envision what was once the card room. Smoke filling the air. Green felt tables. Cards flipping. Deep laughter. Men sitting in the outer room, sharing a drink and a cigar, perhaps waiting their turn for a game.
Stepping into the original salon, a word which has a different meaning today, I stare at the rattan couch and a singular chair. A wall with three wood panels is to my right, and one of the panels is actually a door. As I reach for the knob, my waist is encircled, and I’m pushed forward, opening the door with the heat of a solid person at my back.
Soft kisses pepper my neck as I’m forced into the space. A switch flips, a light comes on, and my breath catches. All the supplies are organized on shelves. There are the damn paper towels along with light bulbs and toilet paper.
“What did you do?” I whisper without turning around to face the man kissing me.
“I organized.”
I might be a creative mess, but I know where things were. Or at least, I thought I did. However, I can appreciate this system.
“When did you do all this?”
Noah’s chest heats my back while his arms tighten around my middle. “While you were sick. I had a helper.”
I spin in his arms. “Jonas?”
“He was sworn to secrecy.”
“He’s terrible at keeping secrets.” He always wants to tell me his wishes.
Noah shrugs. “We talked about the difference between wishes and secrets. I told him this was a good secret because it would turn into a surprise.” Noah’s eyes scan my face. “Surprise!” His voice lowers as well as his head. His mouth captures mine, and once again, he’s kissing me like I’m the air he needs to breathe.