Page 39 of Echoes of Us

I hated how good he looked.

CHAPTER

NINE

BEFORE

Iwoke the next day to his lips against my neck, kissing me slowly. I moaned, turning my face to give him more room. It felt good. He was straddling my hips, his hands firm on my waist. He kissed up, passing my jaw and landing back on my lips. I sighed into his mouth, savoring the feeling, and grabbed his face, pulling him closer. I parted my lips, deepening the kiss, and he followed seamlessly. We were more in sync here than anywhere else, even more than on the court. His forehead rested on mine, and I opened my eyes. He was looking down at me.

“Morning,” he said with a smile.

This was the best possible way to wake up, I was sure of it. I drew him back down to my lips, nibbling on his bottom one, and he let out a low, pleased sound.

“I have to commit this to memory,” he said.

I smiled against his lips. “What?”

He slid his hands under my shirt and touched my skin. “You’re easy in the mornings,” he whispered.

I uttered a hushed laugh. “Fuck off,” I said playfully, and he snickered.

I ran my hands over his thighs, feeling the firm muscles beneath my fingers, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer. He kissed me slowly, and it was so fucking good. I could never have dreamed how good he felt. Nothing would have come close to this. His hands moved to my chest, to my stomach, and he moaned into my mouth.

“You’re so fucking hot, Atty,” he said, his hands tracing the muscles on my abdomen. I pushed my hands into his hair, feeling the softness between my fingers.

“You’re a dream,” I whispered.

He smiled against my lips. “Fuck.”

I opened my eyes to see him again.

“That’s sweet. I think that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he said, frowning a little.

“You don’t like sweet?” I asked, feeling embarrassed.

“I like it coming from you. I knew you’d be like this,” Noah told me.

I leaned up to kiss him again. He sat up from my hips, and his hand traveled lower as he deepened the kiss. His fingertips touched just below my boxers, and I grabbed his hand before he moved further. He stopped kissing me and looked down at me, pouting.

“Not that easy,” I told him.

He scrunched his nose but still smiled.

“This is supposed to be slow,” I reminded him.

“I meant the emotional stuff, not the sex stuff.”

Warmth bloomed in my stomach at the mention of sex, especially in the context of us. “They’re a package deal, at least for me.”

He pressed his lips together. I could almost see him connecting the dots in his head. “Atty…” he started.

Embarrassment swelled in my chest again. “Yes. I am,” I said simply, and he stared at me, not moving an inch.

“You’re what?” he asked, hesitating.

I took a deep breath. It’s not like I didn’t know this conversation was coming. It was better sooner than later.

“You wanted to ask me if I was a virgin, so I answered,” I told him.

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