Page 21 of The Billionaire's Secret Kiss

His hand slid along my chin, fingers curving around the base of my skull to bury themselves in my hair, sending shivers cascading through my body. His thumb grazed my cheek, and he tilted my face up to his.

One glimpse of the molten heat in those bittersweet chocolate eyes and I was lost.

His lips hit mine in a rush, his mouth taking control of the kiss before my brain realized what was happening. This was the downside of drinking too much. I wasn’t drunk, but I was just tipsy enough that my limbic brain was in control.

I didn’t want to think.

I didn’t want to hurt.

I just wanted to feel.

My long-neglected body roared to life under Noah’s hands. My fingers dove into his hair, holding him close as I kissed him back with everything I had.

Letting out a low growl of triumph, Noah lifted me, sitting me on the counter and making space for himself between my legs.

I leaned into him, pasting my torso against his, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt. Dropping my hands, I found the bottom of the fabric and slipped my fingers beneath, laying my palms against his warm, silky skin. I’d always loved the feel of his skin; the softness stretched over lean muscle.

Noah had been working out in California. The ridges of his abs tempted me. Before I could think better of it, I yanked his shirt up, trying to push it over his head.

Noah ripped it off, breaking our kiss for only a second before his mouth found mine again. All that smooth skin and hard muscle. I touched him everywhere—those broad shoulders, his corded arms.

Noah's hands closed over my hips, yanking me into him, the hard bar of his cock pressing into my heat.

Why was I wearing jeans?

Too many clothes were between us.

Hands streaked up my sides, coming together in the center of my back. A flick of his fingers and my bra fell loose. When he drew my shirt over my head, I lifted my arms. A rush of fire hit between my legs at the touch of his chest to my bare breasts.

Skin to skin.

The rasp of his chest hair on my nipples. The chill of the loft and the heat of Noah’s body. I nipped at his neck, smelling him. Ocean and fresh grass. A hint of lemon and mint.

Breathing deeply, I let Noah's scent fill me.

This was Noah.

My Noah.

He lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. "Where’s your bedroom?" he growled in my ear.

"Down the hall," I said.

I didn't question it. Didn't wonder if I should be doing this. It was stupid. He'd broken my heart. He might do it again. But for the first time in two years, I felt whole.

I wanted more.

We were moving, and then we were in my room. Noah set me on my feet and efficiently stripped my jeans over my hips and down my legs. I stepped out of them and fell backward on the bed, bringing him with me. He resisted long enough to grab a condom out of the back pocket of his jeans and shove them off before he joined me.

"Ella," he whispered. "Ella. You feel so good. I missed you so much."

I was dizzy, still a little tipsy, my head spinning from Noah. His hand was between my legs, stroking me, one long finger filling me. He groaned at the clasp of my flesh on his.

"Fuck, Ella. You're so wet." A second finger pressed inside, stretching me, making me ready for him. It had been two years, but I remembered Noah’s size. No matter how wet I was, after so many months of celibacy, even his fingers were too much.

The ball of his thumb pressed into my clit, and I gasped, my hips jerking up, burying his fingers deep as pleasure splintered. I was so close. So fucking close.

"Noah, please."