Warm light from the overhead attic window spilled across the narrow bed, illuminating the space where Noah gently lowered Sage onto the quilt. Her hair fanned out across the fabric like scattered embers, catching the soft glow as the mattress dipped beneath their combined weight.
The springs gave a quiet, rhythmic creak beneath them, but neither paid it any mind.
Fingers tangled in the hem of the borrowed shirt, drawing it upward in a slow reveal. Thighs, hips, the curve of her waist—until the cotton cleared her head and joined the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor.
Pale skin glowed in the afternoon light, flushed and waiting, marked only by fading tan lines and the rapid rise and fall of her breath.
Noah paused above her, suddenly overwhelmed by the sight. Sage, laid bare and wanting, her green eyes heavy-lidded with desire, her lips parted and swollen from his work.
