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My eyes are drawn to her hardened nipples, the slope of her hip, and the length of her leg. Her eyes are glued to me as I take in the breathtaking view. Every other person in the class has already started while I’m dumbstruck by Noah’s beauty. A small giggle escapes her lips, and a tiny amount of my sense returns to my brain. Finally, I search through my paints and get started on capturing her image. As I do, her lips part, and she takes a deep inhale of air.

Something shifts, and the chemistry between us turns from sensual to erotic. With each sweep of paint on canvas, it’s as if my hands are on her body. I fight to hold on to my restraint in this room filled with people. Noah’s skin becomes flushed, and a fire burns behind her eyes. I push down a groan.

This girl. This woman is beyond compare. I couldn’t have dreamed up anything more visually stunning. I’d dare any man to try.

More importantly though is her heart.

It’s pure. And, in this room, while she bares herself to me, both physically and emotionally, our hearts beat in a rhythm that is our own.

I’m positive this girl will own me—body, heart, and soul.

The nude color on my canvas spreads easily as I work. Paint smears on my hands, and carelessly, it starts to coat my skin. Sweat develops above my brows, and the blood filling my body slowly floods to my cock until I have to hide my public indecency. Noah examines my every move with knowing eyes, and it becomes harder for her to stay posed.

Time moves at a halted pace as we share this moment with one another.

Those dresses that she wears, the ones I love, will never be teasingly sexy again. Now, those dresses will torment me in the best kind of way.

My reactions are dulled, and it takes me longer than it should to realize the hour is up and that the students around me are packing their things. A few girls gossip in hushed whispers as they pass me. There isn’t any part of me that cares that our emotions are not a secret within this room. I want the whole world to know how mesmerized I am by Noah’s bold stunt.

These distractions are only a distant buzz in the background while my focus remains with Noah. Her body arches as she leans down to retrieve her robe from the floor and slides it over her body, and I leave my stuff where it is and stride toward her. I stand before her, speechless but wanting to say a million things all at once.

You’re beautiful.

I want you.

Let me know every part of you, please.

“I like you, Brazen, and I’m not afraid to say it first. This is me, and I want to share myself with you. Not professionally and not as your friend. I want to know you in a way no one else has before.”

I had so much I wanted to say, but now, there is only one thing I need to do.

I take Noah by the wrist and pull her to me. Her pulse drums under the touch of my fingers. My other hand goes to her cheek, and my attention zeroes in on her lips, soft and glossy pink. She sinks into me, and our hips touch. Slowly, or maybe it’s quickly—at this point, I don’t know—I lean down to taste her lips. Sweetly, my mouth covers hers, our connection lingering. It takes everything in me not to tear her robe back off and lift her into my arms. If we weren’t in public, I would do exactly that. Noah deserves more from me.

Her warm lips brush against mine, and I deepen our kiss. She moans and then trembles as the reaction runs through her entire body. Her lips part, and I take my chance. Tentatively, my tongue traces the inside of her lips, but there is nothing hesitant about Noah’s response to me.

This is a first kiss that beats anything.

Super Bowl Sunday falling on a four-day weekend for the best possible matchup, and your house is filled with free booze and greasy catered food while the cheerleaders are in your living room. This type of man’s dream scenario doesn’t even compare to what it’s like to have my hands on Noah.

I can feel her smile against my mouth as we kiss.

I pull back, needing to see her eyes.

“I like you, too, and I’m not afraid to say it back,” I say, making myself clear.

She pulls at her robe, double-checking that the fabric is in place.

“Do you want to go get dinner?” she asks with so much hope in her voice.

“Yeah, I know a good place around the corner.”

It’s my favorite place—Al’s Place.

Florida isn’t known for its pizza, but Al’s is home to the best New York–style slice around and has a comfortable atmosphere.

After Noah gets dressed, we head over and grab a couple of slices and a pair of sodas before taking a seat.

“Did you plan that whole thing for me?” I ask her.

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