Chapter 325

Hannah

I twisted my hips against him, aching for that familiar pleasure—for him to hit just the right spot, deeper, deeper…

“Noah…”

“Hannah,” he muttered, his tousled hair falling into his eyes.

The sound of his voice set me ablaze. I reached for him just as I felt myself go over the edge. That ache turned into a throb, and then, “Oh… Noah!”

But there was no answer, although the throbbing remained. My eyes shot open as that pleasure trembled through me, my legs squirming beneath the sheets, my damp panties suddenly feeling all too tight.

Then it hit me. I bolted upright, my bleary eyes wide, and was met with a low chuckle from across the room.

“Having a pleasant dream?” Noah asked, casually sipping his coffee.

“No.” A blush burned across my cheeks, impossible to hide.

Noah scoffed slightly. “You were crying my name out in your sleep. Sounded pretty… intense.”

Swallowing hard, I threw off the covers and swung my legs over the bed to stand. My legs felt like rope, nearly giving out beneath me. I grabbed the edge of the side table before collapsing. Goddess, it had been far too long since I’d… finished. The last time had been that night Noah and I had slept together. Too much had been going on since then for me to have the time, patience, or energy.

“There, there,” Noah cooed, setting down his mug and crossing the room. He looped his arms under mine, steadying me, though I didn’t need it now. “I’ve got you.”

Growling softly, I shoved him away hard enough to make him stumble. “I’m fine.” I brushed past him and stormed into the bathroom, starting the shower.

Noah followed. “You don’t have to be ashamed, Hannah. It happens to the best of us.”

“I’m not ashamed. You’re bothering me.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t seem bothered by me while you were squirming under the sheets.”

I opened my mouth to retort, but lost the words. I settled on trying to shove him out of the bathroom so I could shower in peace. But Noah braced his hands on the doorway, immovable.

When I looked up, those green eyes were twinkling with mischief.

“What is it?”

I growled, placing my hands on my hips. “Yes, I had a wet dream, okay? Are you going to tease me about it all day?”

“No, I’m not.” Noah lowered one hand, reaching out, and I almost flinched. His fingers pinched the strap of my nightgown—which, in my haste, I hadn’t realized had fallen, exposing my entire right breast.

A sudden lump formed in my throat as he slowly, too slowly, tugged the strap back up, his warm fingers grazing my skin. A trail of goosebumps remained where he’d touched.

“Thanks,” I muttered through gritted teeth. But his fingers didn’t move from my shoulder, and when I looked up, that mischief had been replaced with something my sleep-blurred eyes couldn’t quite read.

“I meant what I said last night, you know,” he said quietly, almost huskily. “About making you come. Being good with my fingers. It might be better and more satisfying than a wet dream.”

My face flushed crimson, but I didn’t pull away—not yet, because those words made my knees weaken slightly, and I wasn’t sure I could stay upright if I turned away.

Finally, I mumbled, “I can’t help my body’s natural processes. You don’t need to read into it.”

“I’m not.” He shrugged, his hand falling to his side. His other hand remained braced on the doorway, lifting his shirt ever so slightly to reveal the taut V-line of his abdomen. “But I could help you.”

“I don’t need help.” Finding the strength to turn, I stormed to the shower, feeling the water only halfway warmed up.

“Don’t you need a release?”

I scoffed. “It feels more like you’re the one who needs a release, if you keep bringing it up.”

“Maybe I do.” Another shrug, and he dropped his other arm, striding into the bathroom to lean against the sink.