Page 48 of Coming Home

“Since you were injured.” It was part question, part understanding.

“Yes,” he swallowed hard.

Nat raised her hand, cupped his cheek, and gently commanded, “Let me see you…all of you.”

Noah coiled the fingers around her wrist, guiding it back to his belt buckle. “Okay.”

She unbuckled his belt, keeping her gaze intertwined with his. With determined fingers, she unbuttoned his jeans. Noah’seyes remained locked with hers while she guided both his jeans and boxer briefs down. He lifted his right foot and then left to step out of the damp clothes. She rose and swiveled to throw them into the washer.

Facing Noah, she crouched on her haunches on the smooth cement floor. Her eyes dropped to his muscular legs. Her fingers glided along the scars of his right leg and ridges of puckered skin from where he’d been injured.

“You’re perfect.” She pressed an earnest kiss to the scars.

In her eyes, he was. Each scar represented his story. His loyalty. His sacrifice. His love.

A shuddering breath escaped him. The tight muscles of his legs relaxed with the touch of her lips. “Nat,” he rasped, bending to take her by the shoulders and guide her up.

Noah took her in a reverent kiss, tucking her against his firm chest.

Aching need spread within her. “Noah…I want you.”

Pulling his working mouth away, he stared at her. “Not here.”

Before the words “When?” or “Where?” left her mouth, he scooped her up into his arms. A breathy giggle flew out of her as he strode out of the garage. His bare feet carried them down the stone path towards the Little Red Barn.

“Your feet,” she laughed. “They’ll get dirty.”

“We’ll clean them in the shower.” His tone was determined.

“Oh, sex in the shower?” she cooed with a sassy lilt.

“After the shower.”

Nat skimmed the fingers of her right hand across his chest. “So, we’re going to get clean before we get dirty?”

“Yes.” He smirked.

He opened the door and carried her inside. Kicking the door shut, he strode across the living room to the bathroom. Deposited to her feet on the cool tiled floor, he turned theshower on and held his hand below the spray until it got to his preferred temperature.

Noah’s fingers threaded through her hair. “Do you want this up or down?”

“Up,” she said, thankful he’d not dunked her in the pond allowing the shoulder-length strands to remain dry.

It was the most intimate experience of her life. The gentle strokes of the hairbrush through her sandy tresses as he brushed her hair up into a high ponytail.

“How did you know to do that?” she asked, watching him place the brush on the counter.

“My mom.” He guided her into the shower and stepped in behind her.

The warm water cascaded across her heated skin.

“But I’d prefer not to talk about her when I am naked with you.”

“Your mom doesn’t get you whipped up into a lusty frenzy?” she sassed.

Noah squeezed some body wash onto his hand. “Probably about as much as talking about your dad would when I do this.” His hands massaged the foamy liquid onto her breasts.

Arching into his firm but tender touch, her breath hitched. “Point made.”

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