Page 26 of Reunited with the Hometown Hero
"Don't push your luck." He laughs, the sound warming me from the inside.
The sun dips behind the western peaks, taking the day's warmth with it. I shiver involuntarily as the temperature drops.
"Cold?" Without waiting for an answer, Noah shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it around my shoulders. The fabric carries his heat, his scent enveloping me.
"Thanks." My voice comes out huskier than intended.
He adjusts the collar, his fingers brushing my neck. "Can't have you catching pneumonia. Bad for tourism and publicity."
"Is that why you're being so nice to me? For the article?" I tease, but something shifts behind his eyes.
"You know that's not why."
His hands stay on the collar of my jacket, holding me in place like he's anchoring us both. We're inches apart now—close enough I can see the flecks of gray in his stubble, the faint scar near his temple, the tension rippling beneath the surface of his skin.
He doesn't move. Neither do I. Until with both do—all at once, with a force that knocks the breath clean out of me.
His mouth crashes down on mine, and it's not soft. It's not careful. It's heat and hunger, years of tension detonating between our bodies in one desperate, devastating kiss.
I gasp—he takes advantage, tongue sliding deep, claiming me like he never let go.
His hands find my waist, yanking me closer until there's no air, no space, no thought—just the hard press of his body against mine. I stumble back and feel stone at my spine, a flat sun-warmed boulder anchoring me as he steps between my legs.
His thigh wedges high between mine, lifting, grinding, and oh God—yes. The friction is immediate and unbearable. My hips roll without permission, chasing more, chasing him.
He groans into my mouth, a deep, guttural sound that sends lightning down my spine. One arm braces beside my head, the other drags me impossibly closer. I feel him then—hard and thick, straining through his jeans, pressing against my belly like a brand.
Every nerve in my body ignites.
My fingers claw into his shoulders and his back, needing somewhere to put the wildfire racing through me. I'm gasping into his mouth, biting his bottom lip, aching in places I forgot how to feel.
And he's everywhere. Mouth on mine. Breath hot against my skin. His intensity rolls off him in waves, raw and unfiltered, pulling me under. My thighs clench around his, helpless to the rhythm we've fallen into.
He presses his mouth to the curve of my neck, biting lightly just above my pulse.
"Christ, Riley."
My name is a low growl, a vow, and a warning all at once.
I arch into him, desperate, lost, and he catches me like he always did—sure, unshakable. He's still the boy who learned my body like a language, but now he's grown into a man who's fluent in it.
And just as I start to spiral—just as I let go of everything but him...
Squawk!His radio splits the moment like a thunderclap.
Noah freezes.
His forehead drops to mine, our breaths mingling, ragged and shallow. His hand flexes where it grips my hip, like it physically hurts to let go.
"Chief Morgan, come in."
The voice crackles, tinny and insistent.
He doesn't answer right away. Just stays there, his body holding mine against the stone, every inch of him humming with restraint, want, and frustration.
"I have to take this," he mutters, voice raw.
I nod, too breathless to speak.
