A quiet gasp escapes me, and hearing it makes Noah blink, his expression changing to one of mild surprise.
“I’m sorry,” he says in a rush. “I . . .” He turns back to the front, closing his eyes as his fingers squeeze the steering wheel roughly. “Please stay here.”
Oh.
There’s a pulsing between my legs, and I feel a little trickle of slick seep out into my underwear. Noah’s nostrils flare, and it does something strange to me, knowing he knows. That he can smell how much I want him right now.
“I’ll stay,” I tell him softly.
He nods rigidly. “Thank you.”
I watch him as he climbs out of the car, pulling his coat tight as he stomps across the snow to meet his cousin on the porch. Noah still looks slightly flustered as they talk, and there is a moment when Hunter turns his head to look at me through the windshield, and the hard set of his eyes makes me shiver.
The genes in this family, I swear.
Noah looks anything but happy with Hunter’s curiosity, everything about his posture screaming that he’s uncomfortable with someone else being so close to me right now. Especially someone like Hunter.
And why does that feel so satisfying? It makes me feel warm in a way that has nothing to do with my heat, the warmth resonating solely in my chest like a heated stone that’s taken up residence there. It’s true that Noah’s behavior during all this has been fairly possessive and unlike him, but I’ve been telling myself it’s just a byproduct of his hormones reacting to mine. It’s nothing more than his alpha instincts kicking in and even going into overdrive since they’ve never really been used before. Because it can’t be anything more than that . . . can it?
I’m still pondering this as Hunter hands Noah a set of keys before slapping him on the shoulder, watching as Hunter’s mouth tilts in a lopsided grin before he sets off down the stairs toward an old, dark green Bronco parked on the side of the lodge. Noah watches him drive off, that same tense expression on his face, with that same hard line of his mouth. Even as agitated as he looks, watching him makes me feel more flushed, if that’s even possible, my breath turning shallow as that tightness in my skin worsens. My entire body is screaming at me to go to him, seeming to know that Noah can give us exactly what we want. In this moment, knowing that we’re alone, nothing seems as important as the broad, agitated-looking doctor coming down the lodge steps after me.
I don’t move as he closes the distance between the lodge and the passenger door, waiting until he opens the door and leans down to look at me to release the breath I’m holding. “You can come now.”
Fuck.
I shiver all over. It’s not what he means, the way my brain is interpreting it, but it doesn’t stop me from needing to press my legs together. Noah reaches out with his hand in silent waiting, and it feels cool on my fevered skin when I place mine inside it. His thumb strokes my palm in a slow back and forth, and then he’s pulling me from the car and helping me stand on unsteady legs as I fall against him. Even in the cool air it feels warm between us, and Noah’s hand at my lower back is downright hot through my clothes.
“Let’s get you inside,” he hums. “It’s just you and me now.”
The giddiness this makes me feel has to be dangerous, given what we are, but knowing that does nothing to stop me from feeling it. Not a damn thing.
* * *
?I’m watching him set up some sort of emergency heat station on the wooden dresser in the bedroom he helped me to; it seems like Noah thought about this a lot more than I did, if the water bottles, easily accessible snacks, and towels are any indication. I can see how he’s stressing over it—like he might be afraid that he’s missed something—his hand over his mouth and his brow furrowed as he most likely mentally checks off anything else we might need. I could almost laugh; only Noah could be so calculating during a time like this.
My stomach clenches as I consider how much he’s thought about me, about taking care of me, but that confusion is something I can’t handle right now.
“Is there really no one else here?”
Noah turns to regard me. “Hunter went down to stay with his aunt, Jeannie. Since business isn’t what it used to be . . .” His eyes are heated now. “It’s just us.”
“Wow,” I answer with a choked laugh. “A whole ski lodge for a sexcation. How romantic.”
Noah doesn’t laugh. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay at the moment,” I tell him honestly. “The headache isn’t as bad, and I don’t feel like my skin is catching on fire, mostly.”
“Your scent is still”—he rolls his lips together—“very thick.”
I can’t help it; in this moment of clarity I find myself curious. “Is it really hard to stand?”
“It isn’t . . . easy,” Noah says. “Actually, it’s fucking hard.”
And why does that make me even more giddy? Do I like the fact that Noah is admitting to going a little insane over me? It definitely feels more like the “complicated” way of things. Then again, it feels like everything about Noah and me has been complicated lately. The more I assess it, the more it sort of scares the shit out of me. I can’t let myself read too much into this, knowing that he’ll be gone within a month or more. It’s exactly the sort of scenario I wanted to avoid when I agreed to this. The same scenario that felt impossible when I agreed to this. I don’t get giddy over men I’ve known for so little time. Hell, I don’t get giddy over men, period, really.
So why does the way Noah looks at me make me feel so warm? Is it my heat? Or something else?
“It’s hard being around you too,” I half whisper. “You smell really good.”
His hands clench at his sides. “Do I.”
“You’ve always smelled good,” I answer truthfully, the words falling out of my mouth almost beyond my control. “It’s calming. Like being in the snow, but . . . it’s warm too.”
“Warm,” he echoes, eyes caressing my face.
I nod. “Or at least . . . it makes me feel warm.”
“Really,” he says softly. There’s another clench of his fists, and then a step, and I feel the breath in my lungs get hung up like it’s forgotten how to work itself out of my body. “Do you know what your scent does to me?”
He takes another step, and the distance between us is so short now, with the way I’m teetering on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to try and lessen it even further. “No.”
“It makes me feel like I have no control,” he breathes, feet bumping against mine as he curls his body to brace his hands on either side of my waist. “And I’m very good at keeping my control.”