Cat scrambled for an excuse to send him home, to give herself a little distance to find her balance. But the sex coma left her brain mushy.

“Want some water?” Noah murmured, lips brushed the tender skin of her neck.

“Yeah,” she croaked. Anything to get his hot skin off of hers.

Noah pushed himself up, and Cat pretended not to notice the bulge of biceps, the ridges of abs. Stripping off the pants bunched around his feet, Noah padded naked to her miniscule kitchen and opened the fridge. “Jesus, Cat,” he called. “You’ve got three bottles of water, half a green juice, and some wilted lettuce in here. How do you survive?”

“I do just fine. Water me,” she ordered, working her way into a sitting position. She grabbed a shirt off the floor and dragged it on over her head. If she wasn’t naked, there wouldn’t be a reason for him to stick around. She stumbled to the couch and flopped down on the cushion.

His ass was a fine specimen of male asses, she thought, cocking her head to admire its firm symmetry. She’d admired it before in Dockers and jeans, but it was even more spectacular without any adornments.

“Do you work out?” she asked before her brain caught up with her mouth.

Noah returned to her, water bottles in hand, and gracefully sank onto the cushion next to her. He opened a bottle and handed it to her. “I go to the gym,” he said, guzzling his own water.

“It shows,” Cat said, letting her gaze appreciatively wander the rest of his body. She liked that he was confident enough to not immediately reach for his pants in the corner or his underwear, wherever the hell they were.

“We’re making small talk now?” Noah asked, eyeing her. “After that?”

Cat felt embarrassed over her embarrassment. He had her off kilter. It reminded her of when she and Gannon were kids playing baseball in the neighborhood. In their infinite nine-year-old wisdom, they’d put their foreheads on the end of the bat and spun and spun until they couldn’t run a straight line.

That’s how she felt now. Dizzy and giddy and not completely in control.

“An observation isn’t small talk,” Cat argued.

“Hmm,” Noah responded. He was watching her with something warm, something possessive in those sharp green eyes. His hair was a mess from her demanding fingers pulling on it. He looked so relaxed, so happy and confident. All Cat wanted to do was curl up in his lap and fall asleep. But that wasn’t how she rolled. Not even close.

“Well, I’ve got an early morning,” she began.