Page 74 of Play On

“I love how soft your skin feels underneath my hand,” he murmurs, his voice low and caressing. “I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since the first time I touched you on the beach.”

“Did you want to do anything else on that beach?” I whisper, my hands moving to the nape of his neck.

His nose nuzzles against mine and I feel my breath catch in my throat. Noah’s unexpected combination of sweet and sexy is going to be my complete undoing.

Or my endgame.

Noah lowers his mouth, so it hovers right above mine. “I wanted to kiss you on the beach for hours,” he murmurs, his breath a warm whisper over my lips, “and take the taste of you all the way back with me to London.”

Oh. My. God.

His words cause me to erupt with heat.

And need.

“Noah,” I plead, my fingers sinking into his thick hair. “Kiss me. Kiss me like you did at Wisteria House. I want the scent of you all over me tonight when I go home.”

His mouth claims mine. Noah’s tongue demands access, and I eagerly give it to him, desperate to drink him in. His kiss is hot and seeking, and I match it, wanting the same from him. He tastes of sugar, from all the sweets we ate at the cinema, and I breathe in the clean citrus cologne that lingers on his skin.

What a heady combination that is.

Now both his hands are underneath my shirt, and I gasp from the sensation of him touching my bare skin. Noah draws me closer, and I respond by breaking the kiss and drawing his lower lip between my teeth, sucking on it.

A groan escapes his throat, and the primal sound sends goosebumps sweeping over my skin.

He likes that.

And I’m the woman causing that response in him.

He reclaims my lips and kisses me again, a fast, burning, searing kiss. His stubble scratches against my face. I grip his hair. Noah presses me against the passenger door, our bodies flush together. I can feel the heat radiating off his chest, and his hip bones pinning mine to the Bentley. The whole time, his mouth doesn’t stop seeking mine. I feel the hardness of his body. The powerful muscles. I taste him, smell him, feel him as he continues to ravage my mouth with his scorching kisses.

A cry of pleasure escapes my lips, and Noah swallows it up in another fierce kiss before breaking it. I suck in a breath of air, and he lowers his forehead to mine as we both regain our breath. His hands move to my hair, stroking it, and I cling to him, feeling my heart slam wildly against my ribs.

“Noah,” I finally manage to get out. “What are you doing to me?”

“Things you like, Butterfly,” he responds.

Butterfly.

I move my hands to his face, pulling him back so I can look up at him.

“When I call you that, it’s different,” Noah asserts, his eyes growing soft. “It’s a beautiful, meaningful thing when I say it. And I want you to believe it.”

I swallow against the lump that has formed in my throat. I search his eyes, and there is no doubt Noah believes every word he has just spoken.

I move one of my hands to his face, stroking it, feeling his facial stubble slide underneath my palm. “What did I do to deserve you? You’re too good to be real,” I manage to say, my voice thick.

“Don’t say that, Violet,” Noah responds, wincing.

Why is he wincing?

“Why are you reacting like that?” I ask.

“Because it’s not true. I don’t want to disappoint you when you find out I’m not this person you’re painting me out to be.”

“Then help me paint the picture,” I say gently.

Surprise flashes across his face. Noah wasn’t expecting that comment from me.

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