CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Myra's POV

Almost immediately, an image of my mother flashed before my eyes. The small smile she'd given me in the morning when I went out to find those herbs. Her face several weeks later, rotten and grotesque in death.

But I pushed that thought away, focusing on that single touch of Noah's lips on mine.

I should have thought about my mother. I should have remembered the words those people had said about me in the courtroom, but my head seemed to be occupied by Noah and him alone. I didn’t care about anything else at that moment. All my thoughts, all my focus were on one thing—the needy, desperate throb between my legs.

Noah slid one hand from my waist to smooth it up my ribcage to my breasts. My nipples were already stiff, poking through the rough fabric of my towel. He slowly cupped my breasts, and his palms were filled with my warm, resilient flesh.

I slid my hands down the muscles of his belly to the waistband of his trousers. He wasn’t wearing a belt and the material of the tro