Stacey’s POV:
The clock on Noah’s wall ticked louder than usual as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across his room. I was lying in his arms on the couch, tucked into his warmth, wrapped in that familiar scent of his skin, spiced cologne, and something uniquely him.
But the peace was running out. His parents would be home soon.
I sighed and sat up, brushing my fingers through my hair and smoothing the wrinkles in my blouse. “I should go.”
Noah’s hand slid around my waist, pulling me back gently. “Not yet.”
“We said we’d be careful, remember?” I glanced at the door, heart skipping. “They could walk in any minute.”
“I know,” he murmured. “But I don’t want you to go.”
His voice had that soft huskiness I’d come to love, the kind he only used when the rest of
