Page 117 of Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad World

Her fingertips traced the planes and indentations of his abdomen while he softly teased his fingers through her hair. They lay like that, entwined together in the faint lamplight, breathing each other in and remembering they were still alive. Although the thought of what might have been still haunted him. He could have lost her. It’d all come far too close for comfort.

A shudder passed through him at the thought.

“Don’t,” Annabelle whispered before pressing a kiss to his chest. “We’re here, we’re alive, we won.”

He stared up at the ceiling without really seeing it. “I feel like I’m back in that SUV, knowing you’re still at the warehouse and I’m not there to help you.”

“Dr. Mallory says that the best way to deal with feelings like that is to remind yourself you’re in the present by being consciously aware of where you are now.” She ran a hand over his stomach. “We’re here together. Feel my touch. It’s real. It’s now. It’s all that matters.”

Noah shivered as she caressed him. “You are so much stronger than I am,” he told her, meaning every word. He was in awe of her.

“True,” she teased, and he felt her smile against his skin. “I’m also a delayed reactor. You can help calm me down when I freak out later this week.”

“It’s a deal,” he promised.

Her hand slid lower, and he sucked in a breath as she wrapped her fist around his hard, ready length. Unlike his brain, other parts of his body had no problem with staying in the present.

“Bella,” he whispered as his own hand found its way to the heavy weight of her breast.

She stroked him slowly. “Today, when everything was happening, I told myself all I had to do was wait for you.” She angled her face to look up at him. “I never once doubted that you’d come for me.”

Noah reluctantly moved his hand from her breast to clasp her wrist. “If you keep stroking me like that, I’ll come for you right now too.” Carefully, gently, he removed her hold and rolled her onto her back.

He leaned up over her, tracing the bruise around her eye. Hating that it was there.

Annabelle reached up to cup his cheek. “Stay in the present, remember?”

“It’ll take some practice,” he murmured, drinking her in with his eyes before closing the gap between them to sip at her lips. “Lots and lots of practice.”

Their kiss was slow, each taste an act of adoration, of caring. She was precious to him. Inside and out. And Noah was in no hurry to end the sweet tangle of lips and tongue. Eventually, he pulled away. When he gazed down at her, he saw flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. He felt her hands clasping his back, keeping him close. As if he’d ever want to be anywhere else.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Damn, I was going to say that first.” In true Merchant fashion, he’d told everyone on his team that he loved her but hadn’t gotten around to telling Annabelle. Hedefinitelyhad a gift for romance.

“I know,” she said with a wide, slow smile. “Nothing stopping you from saying it now, is there?”

Noah kissed the tip of her nose, then those laughing eyes, then the corner of her smiling lips before whispering the words against her mouth. “I love you.” He kissed her chin. “I love you.” He returned to her mouth. “I love you.” The words tasted like ambrosia.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as their kiss deepened into a tangle of tongues and gasps for air. Hands took on a life of their own, roaming, exploring, caressing. They were on a slow road to their destination, neither in any hurry to reach the end.

Mindful of her bruises, Noah supported most of his weight as he kissed his way down her throat to those luscious breasts. He twirled his tongue around one pert nipple, making her gasp and arch up into him. Her fingers twisted into his hair, holding his head against her. Needing him there. Needing his kiss. His touch. Noah recognized the need because he felt it too, burninginside him like a void, desperate to be filled. His hand slid down to her warm, wet heat, testing her readiness for him.

“Please,” she said, “I don’t want to go over without you.”

He understood and grasped her hip to gently move her beneath him as he made space for himself between her legs. With his arms bearing his weight, he rose above her. She looked decadent—her dark, wild hair strewn across the pillow as she stared up at him with nothing but trust in her eyes.

They were beyond communicating with words now, in that place where only lovers could expound with touch and adoration. She drew her knees up alongside his thighs as she held on to his waist, and they gazed into each other’s eyes as he slowly entered her.

This wasn’t about sex. About climax. Or release. This was a joining. A promise. A shared need to love and know one another. He felt it in her touch, her look, her smile.

Slowly, reverently, he moved inside her.

His Bella.

Her Noah.

Together.