Page 84 of Cruel Elite (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 3)

His chest stops mid-inhale, his breath catching in his throat. He leans into my hand as he releases a shaky exhale, his shoulders relaxing for the first time since I arrived.

Noah lays his hand over mine, drawing his fingers down my knuckles and over my wrist. His other hand wraps around my lower back and pulls me flush against him.

The connection is the most intimate thing we’ve done in years. It’s not like our interactions at school, frantic and tinged with shame.

There’s an innocence in the way Noah is touching me, outlining my shape like he wants to make sure I’m real.

I’m not so sure I am.

I’m not sure any of this is real.

For years, I’ve buried my feelings for Noah. My mom taunted me with the break in our friendship, convincing me he must have learned the horrible truth about me, too.

That I’m not worth it.

Not worth anything.

I was alone without him. And I was certain I had pushed away everyone in my life. That they left because of me.

So I changed.

I morphed into the kind of person who couldn’t be hurt.

I did what my mother demanded, despite it never being enough to satisfy her, and I promised myself I could get through my time in this town without anyone being on my side.

I didn’t need a friend. I didn’t need an ally.

Now, however, as Noah pulls me closer and presses his face against the soft skin of my neck, as I feel his lips brush against my body, whispering words I can’t hear, I feel my heart crack.

Heartbreak for all the years we lost.

For all the friendships and opportunities and days I gave up believing I wasn’t enough.

In Noah’s arms, with his tenderness wrapped around me, I feel worthy.

I also feel terrified.

I’m scared this is going to be taken away from me, that I’ve somehow lured Noah into a trance that he could wake up from any second.

To keep him with me, I pull away from him, grab his face, and bring my lips to his.

I feel it—the same stomach bottoming out connection I felt in the bathroom today.

I kissed Noah, and it felt like taking my first breath of fresh air in years.

He’d pulled away then, but I think now it’s because he felt it, too. Even when he was playacting as the boy who hates me, he’d felt it.

I want him to feel it again.

Immediately, Noah responds.

He moans, deep down in his throat, and crushes me closer to him. Our kisses are messy, growing more hurried by the second, but it’s only because we can’t get enough of one another.

Because kisses aren’t enough for the feeling in the air.

Kisses don’t express the degree to which we’ve come home to one another after so, so long.

I push on his chest, moving him further into the room.

---