Written with Love

Annie and Noah lock eyes from across the room, and her stomach drops. Except, when Noah approaches, he's nothing like Annie expected. Hot? Yes. Built like a Greek god? Definitely. But also solid and funny and just warm enough to begin thawing the ice around Annie's sweet and all-too-self-aware heart.

Their evening together ends abruptly, and Annie's ready to write him off, until Noah appears as one of only a handful of students in her Advanced Fiction Writing class. She can't fight her attraction but knows better than to trust anything given as freely as Noah appears to give... everything. Caught between what her heart wants, and her head knows, Annie does what she does best when backed into a corner -- she writes.
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"You're not going to buy me dinner first?" He just clicked his tongue in response, teasing, and suddenly I was thinking about his tongue and finding somewhere quieter, and all the things he could do, with that tongue, somewhere quieter. Suffice to say, I was not thinking very clearly.

"What did you think I was asking about? Surely your mind didn't go elsewhere?" I felt his breath on my neck as he spoke, and the awareness of how close we were pooled low in my stomach.

"Somewhere quiet sounds good." He grinned, and my stomach did another unhelpful flip as I realized he had a dimple. One, singular, dimple.

"I know just the place. Come on." He held his hand out, and it closed over mine, warm and reassuring.

Then he started to weave through the crowd, tall and confident, headed straight for the entrance. I couldn't help it. I followed.
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