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The hallway.

Biscuit.

His family.

The blankets.

Every time he had shown up.

Every time he had chosen her.

Every time she had wanted him to stay.

Claire’s gaze dropped, just for a second, to his mouth.

When she looked back up, Noah had noticed.

Of course he had.

His eyes darkened slightly, and her stomach flipped.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to,” she whispered.

Noah let out a quiet laugh, but there was no teasing in it now. “You could’ve said something.”

“That would’ve required admitting I wanted you to.”

“And that would be terrible.”

“Obviously.”

His smile was small. Soft.

Then he reached up slowly and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

His fingers lingered against her cheek.

Claire stopped breathing.

Noah’s thumb brushed once over her skin.

“Still okay?” he asked quietly.

She nodded in response, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat. It was quiet for a moment until she softly said, “Noah.”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice.

Noah cupped her cheek and leaned in slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop him. She didn’t. His lips gently brushed hers. The kiss was soft at first, almost careful.

Claire had imagined this before.

She was absolutely not admitting how many times.

None of those versions had prepared her for the reality of him this close and his lips on hers.