Page 3 of Reunited with the Hometown Hero
"It just came on," I manage, my voice thinner, breathier than it should be.
But the sound of him—that voice—cracks something open in me.
I remember that tone from long ago, how it first taught me what it meant to want.
To ache.
To fall completely.
He was the first boy who ever looked at me like he could see straight through me—and the only one I ever let get that close.
He didn't coax. He didn't seduce. He drew me in, and I went willingly.
Back then, Noah Morgan didn't just kiss. He devoured. He explored every dark, uncharted corner of my curiosity and showed me how much I craved intensity—his intensity. His fingers tangled in my hair, his mouth murmuring sin against my skin while his body made good on every filthy promise.
And now, standing here soaked to the skin, no bra beneath my clingy shirt, heart pounding like it remembers what my mind's trying to forget—I know one thing with terrifying certainty.
That voice still undoes me.
I can't stop staring at the way his shirt pulls across his back, the water glistening on his skin, the sheer confidence radiating off him like heat in the storm.
And all I can think is…
Ten years.
Ten years, and he still makes me want to beg.
He makes a noncommittal sound, reaching into the tangle of metal and wires with those confident hands that once knew every inch of my body.
"Timing belt's shot. You're not going anywhere in this today."
"Great." I wrap my arms around myself, the wind cutting straight through my soaked clothes. My nipples tighten beneath the thin fabric—cold, sure, but also because of him. Because he hasn't even looked at me properly yet, and I'm ready to combust. "Just great."
Noah straightens, finally meeting my eyes. It hits like a slap and a kiss—recognition, memory, and something molten that pools low in my belly. My stomach drops like I've missed a step, and the breath leaves my lungs in one stuttering rush.
"I can give you a ride into town." He hesitates, then adds, “The whole town is eager to see you. Welcome back to Angel's Peak…Riley."
My heart slams into my ribs so hard it hurts. "You knew I was coming?”
His mouth tips into that infuriating smirk, one corner lifting just enough to flash that damn dimple. The one he used to press against my inner thigh right before?—
"Small town, remember? Mabel's been airing out your room for three days."
I suppress a groan, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something I'll regret. How is he so calm? So... put together? Like this is any other day, any other woman. Not the girl who begged for him. Knelt for him.
Who broke for him.
"Word travels fast," I mutter, eyes narrowing.
"Never stopped." There's an edge in his voice now, deeper, darker. A flicker of something real. He jerks his chin toward his SUV. "Grab your stuff. I'll call Pete at the garage once we're back in service range."
I don't move.
Because I'm still trying to process how he's not wrecked like I am. How can he stand there, cool and casual, while I’m soaked to the skin and seconds away from climbing him like a damn tree? My body remembers everything—his hands, his voice, the way he used to whisper filth into my ear and make me love it.
My brain?
It's just along for the ride now.
