Chapter 4 Chapter 4: Noah Returns
Theodore’s hand settled at the nape of her neck—a quiet command more than force.
His mouth claimed hers, determined and unyielding, until her breath caught.
“You—” Fury sparked, but the protest broke on her lips.
He deepened the kiss, stealing her words and her balance with smooth, relentless intent.
Her eyes flew wide as the heat between them sharpened, startling in its ferocity.
In the space of a breath, she found herself beneath him, the sofa receiving her as if it had been waiting.
His touch skimmed the edge of fabric, the warmth of his palm leaving bright, trembling paths.
Wherever he touched, sensation answered—quick sparks racing ahead of thought.
Her thoughts scattered; she let him lead, unmoored and breathless, unsure—and drawn.
Clarity cut through the haze; she braced a hand to his chest and pushed, a shaky no catching in her throat.
“No—” The word came out thin but firm.
He stilled, breath rough, eyes searching hers.
Colour rose to her cheeks. “Be gentle… please,” she whispered.
She risked a glance—uncertain, expectant.
The tempest in his gaze made her pulse stumble—then soften, strangely.
“All right,” he said at last, the edge in his eyes easing to something careful.
He framed her face in his hands and kissed her again—slower now, almost reverent—before his mouth trailed to the hollow of her throat, where her breath turned to a sigh.
A quiet sound escaped her, half surprise, half surrender.
“Is this gentle enough?” he murmured, a smile curling at the edge of his voice.
“Mmm.” She drifted, the room narrowing to warmth and the rhythm of his breath.
His kisses wandered lower; fabric yielded under patient hands until cool air kissed overheated skin.
Desire flared in his eyes. He gathered her close, exploring with a reverence that stole her breath and left trembling in its wake.
Her hands slid to his shoulders; without thinking, she leaned into him, into the shelter of his body.
His hold at her waist tightened, anchoring her.
His palms traced a slow path, deft with buttons and hesitation both.
Barriers yielded, one by one, until there was nothing left but heat and the thrum of want.
He bent to her with a tenderness that turned thought to white noise.
Pleasure flickered up her spine; she arched, startled by the force of it.
“Theodore—” Her plea wavered between retreat and need.
“Only if you want me,” he breathed, gentling her with his voice. “Close your eyes.”
His steadiness coaxed her past the edge of fear; she met him, breath for breath.
Their mouths found each other again, deeper now, certain.
They crossed the last distance together, the world tilting as if the room itself exhaled.
A sharp ache bloomed—brief, inevitable.
She caught her lip, a soft sound escaping despite herself.
He hushed her with kisses—mouth, brow, the bridge of her nose—patient until the tension unwound.
At length the ache eased; her breath found its rhythm again.
He drew a steadying breath and moved with intent—no longer a siege, but a vow.
Whatever armour he wore fell away.
Luna let the moment carry her; she held on as if the ground had vanished beneath them.
Silence pooled slowly around them, punctuated only by their uneven breaths. His hand stayed at her cheek, tracing the tremor there; her fingers curled in the sofa’s fabric, unwilling to let go.
And from outside, cutting through the fragile hush, came the low growl of an engine in the drive.
Noah had returned.
