Chapter 103

Hannah

The kiss felt like a dam breaking. I melted into Noah’s arms, my fingers clutching the crisp fabric of his tuxedo lapels. It had been far too long since I had felt the heat of his mouth against mine. He hadn’t kissed me in what felt like an eternity; we hadn’t even locked lips during our monthly intimacy nights in ages, too focused on simply completing the act. But now…

A soft, broken sound escaped me, something between a gasp and a moan, muffled by his lips. Thankfully, the music drowned it out. It was too much, and yet, somehow, nowhere near enough.

Just when I thought I might collapse, Noah pulled away, just enough for us to breathe. His hands remained on my jaw, crowding me like a solid wall. My eyes fluttered open, only to catch my breath again at the fiery hunger in Noah’s eyes. The depths of those green irises burned with a fire I hadn’t seen in…forever.

I couldn’t decide whether to lean in again or run. But the crowd decided for me. Our public kiss was quite a spectacle.

“Alpha Noah! Luna Hannah! Over here, please!”

We both startled. Noah’s hands fell away as he snapped his head toward the sound. A sharply dressed reporter pushed through the crowd—Emily, the journalist I’d once hired.

“Could I interview you both?” she asked. “Just a few questions?”

Noah’s expression went blank, that brief glimpse of himself hidden again. I glanced at him, finding nothing—not even a whisper of the feral desire I’d seen moments before.

The smart thing would be to decline. I’d had one interview with Emily before, and Noah hadn’t approved. But I suspected he’d invited her for a reason.

“I’d love to,” I said, looping my arm through Noah’s. “What do you say, Noah?”

He paused before relaxing, his hand resting on mine. “That sounds nice,” he said.

We found a table. Noah summoned a server, who set down drinks and hors d’oeuvres.

“So,” Emily said, opening her notepad, “this event is quite exciting, and such a last-minute affair. May I ask what the reason for celebration is?”

Noah cleared his throat before I could speak. “It’s our anniversary.”

My eyes widened. Anniversary? We’d married in the fall, not…

“The anniversary of our meeting,” he added, giving me a pointed glance. But we hadn’t met on this date. He knew that, right?

“Oh, how romantic,” Emily said, jotting on her notepad. “Most couples only care about their wedding anniversary, or when they started dating.”

“Yes, well,” I began, trying to hide my perturbation, “Noah and I are…”