Mirabelle’s POV:
Noah chuckles against my skin. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.” He says, his hands sliding lower, tracing the curve of my waist, my hips. He tugs at the hem of my frock, pulling it up over my thighs.
His fingers skim over my skin, and the sensation sends a jolt of electricity through me. I arch into him, desperate for more of his touch, but he takes his time, savoring every moment.
He teases me, his hands slipping under the fabric, caressing the bare skin of my legs, then stopping just shy of where I want him most. I groan in frustration, pushing my hips up, but he holds me still, a wicked grin on his lips.
“Not so fast, my Love.” He says, his voice thick with amusement. “We’re going to do this slow, the way I want.”
His fingers trail up my sides, taking the fabric
