He did remember. The strokes had been soothing and caressing and just… caring. He’d never had that, never let anyone close enough to show care. “That was nice. Will you do it again?”
“I might.” A sparkle in her eyes, she turned her head to press a kiss to his palm. “But for now I’m going back to sleep.”
He didn’t think she’d be able to fall asleep, but he’d forgotten how often she had to sleep at odd times because of shooting schedules. She was out again in minutes, but that was okay. He could deal now that he’d seen her eyes, seen that she still saw him as Noah, the man she wanted, and not Noah, the boy who’d been helpless in that Cape Cod room all those years ago.
He didn’t know where they’d go from here, but for this one morning, everything was all right, and he could watch Kit while she slept beside him.
Kit groaned as she walked into the kitchen after her shower. “I hate camping.”
“I kind of liked it.” The freedom, the night air around him, the stars above and Kit beside him. It was all he needed.
“Hmph.”
“Come here, Grumpy Guts.” He held up a plate with a fresh waffle doused in syrup.
Eyes lighting up, she hopped up to sit at the counter and didn’t even protest when he insisted on feeding the food to her, taking a bite now and then himself. “Here.” He handed her a mug of coffee when he saw her glancing around for a drink.
“Mmm, my favorite blend.” Breathing deep, she took a sip. “More waffle.”
Laughing at her tone, he opened the waffle maker to take out the one he’d started cooking partway through their demolition of this one. He got most of the second one since Kit declared herself full after a couple more bites.
“Can we talk about stuff?”
He felt his back stiffen at the careful question. “Yeah.” It came out harsh.
But Kit’s question wasn’t what he’d expected, wasn’t about what had happened to him as a kid. “You don’t like sex, but what about the rest?”
“Jesus, Kit, you know I’ve been around the block. I’ve probably done everything they write about in Penthouse and then some.”
Kit scowled at him over the lip of her coffee mug. “If I come up with something you haven’t done, will you do it with me?”
“Yeah, why not?” If she was still willing to be with him, he’d give her everything he could. “But babe, you’ll be eighty before you unearth anything I haven’t done.”
“Uh-huh.” She sipped her coffee. “Have you ever had a massage from a lover, given one yourself?”
He stared at her, blinked. “No.”
A smug smile. “Oh, what’s that I hear?” She cupped a hand at her ear. “It’s the sound of Noah St. John eating humble pie. Why yes, Kit,” she added in a deep voice, “this humble pie is mighty delicious.”
“Smart-ass.” He grinned. “I thought you were talking about sex stuff.”
“It falls on the spectrum—that’s why they call them massage parlors.”
“Are you going to offer a happy ending?” She was right; it all came down to sex.
Another scowl. “I’m not that kind of girl.” A pointed finger. “And you owe me a massage tonight.”
He went to reply, shut his mouth when he realized that a massage would give him permission to put his hands on Kit. For a while at least, it wouldn’t be about sex. It would just be about touching her, and he wanted to do that. He’d always wanted to touch Kit. “I guess I’d better buy some oil.”
Chapter 34
Kit had no idea what she was doing. Noah needed a counselor, but since he refused to even consider going to see one, they had to stumble through this on their own. Part of that meant reading everything she could online about abuse survivors. She did that during the day while Noah hooked up with David and Abe to go see a set of drums David was thinking of buying.