Page 90 of Play On

“No, it doesn’t scare me. Because I’ve been thinking about it, too. I report back for training, then I depart for Australia on the fourteenth of July. But if we could meet up even for a few hours at a time, I’d do it, Violet. And just so you know, I don’t expect you to rearrange your whole work schedule at Wintersmith Hall to do it. I respect what you do, and I don’t want you to run around making all the sacrifices to spend time with me.”

I put down my fork, my heart roaring in my ears.

Noah doesn’t dismiss my job at the gift shop or helping Mum pick out things as something that should be blown off or is less important than his football career, which most people would easily do.

Somehow, this man sees value in all the things I do, even if others deem them as insignificant.

You do know how to make me fall for you, don’t you?, I think, staring at him from across the table.

Because right now I just fell a little bit in love with him.

“Before you go back on Sunday, we’ll go over our diaries and make some plans,” I say, knowing I would do anything I had to do to get some precious hours with him.

“Cheers to that,” Noah says, lifting his wineglass.

I smile at him and raise my wineglass to his. “Cheers.”

We finish our meal, and as we are washing up, the rain which had been threatening to break since we returned home finally does. It falls gently from the sky, sounding loud on the copper roof.

“Do you mind if I open the door?” I ask. “I love the scent and sound of rain.”

“Go ahead.”

I move towards the door that leads to the terrace and slide it open. I’m immediately embraced by the cooler air and the sound of the rain bouncing off the roof that covers part of the terrace.

“I love this,” I say softly, closing my eyes and letting the air caress my skin.

Suddenly I feel Noah’s presence behind me. His arm snakes around me, and it’s erotic and intoxicating.

“Would you like to sit outside in the rain?” he whispers into my shoulder before kissing it.

“We’ll get soaked,” I manage to murmur back.

His lips travel up the side of my neck, and he pauses at my ear. “Not if we sit under the sheltered part.”

I shiver against him, and Noah leaves me. I turn and look over my shoulder, and he’s retrieving the blanket that is neatly folded across the back of the sofa. Then he takes my hand and leads me outside to the terrace, sitting down on a chair under the protection of the roof. Noah pulls me down to him, positioning me so I’m sitting on his lap, my legs swung over to the side. He drapes the blanket over us, making sure I’m covered, and then he kisses me.

Noah’s lips part mine, and his tongue begins to explore my mouth. My tongue dances with his, tasting the red wine on his lips as he deepens the kiss. I move my hands from underneath the blanket, sinking them into his hair, holding on to him as my heart begins to race inside my chest.

The rain continues to fall, picking up a bit, and the cool air blows across us, whipping my hair around with it. Noah takes one hand to brush it back, but then he slides his hand underneath it and cradles my head in his hand. He breaks the kiss and moves my head so he can look into my eyes.

Then I feel it.

His other hand has bunched up my skirt and pushed it aside. I gasp as I feel his hand slowly travel up my bare thigh, his fingertips trailing tantalisingly across my skin. They move closer, closer, closer, and then his index finger barely touches the edge of my knickers, lightly skimming over the elastic edge and causing me to arch in his arms.

“Let me touch you, Butterfly,” he says, his voice low.

“Here?” I gasp, my fingers digging into his silky locks as his index finger continues to travel up and down that border of elastic. The rain picks up, and I can feel the wind carry some of the droplets towards us, and then land on my skin.

“Here,” he commands. “I will make you feel so good. You’re going tofly. But only if you say yes. I need to touch you as much as you need to be touched.”

Everything in me begins to tighten. My muscles clench with need, and as Noah’s finger reaches the thin scrap of elastic around my hip bone, he hooks it over his finger and stops, drawing my mouth closer to his so his heated breath brushes over my lips.

“Let me touch you, Butterfly,” Noah begs in a whisper. “Please let me touch you.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

To Make Me His

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