Thorne POV
Noelle hesitates.
He's right there, hovering just above me, close enough that I can feel his warmth but not close enough.
He's in his head, unsure, hesitating—but I'm not having that.
A low growl rumbles from my chest, frustration curling through my muscles.
Then—
I grip his thighs firmly, fingers pressing into soft flesh, and drag him down onto me.
A startled gasp escapes him, his breath stuttering as he instinctively grabs onto the wall, nails digging into the wood paneling.
I smirk against his skin.
There we go.
The weight of him is intoxicating. The way his muscles tense, the way his breath hitches, the way his body instinctively leans into me despite his earlier hesitation.
He's trying so hard to hold himself up.
I won't allow it.
"Relax, my star," I murmur, voice low and deep, rough with want. "I've got you."
His body shudders slightly, his thighs quivering, but still—he doesn't fully let go.
I tighten my grip.
