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I rose to my toes, hands finding his shoulders as his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him. The kiss deepened, his mouth warm and insistent against mine. Thunder crashed around us, but I barely noticed, lost in the sensation of finally knowing what Noah Sterling's kiss felt like.

It was better than I'd imagined—and I'd imagined it more than I cared to admit. He kissed with the same focused intensity he brought to everything, as if nothing existed beyond this moment, this connection. One hand slid up my back to tangle in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss further.

I made a small sound of pleasure against his mouth and felt his smile in response. When we finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, the storm seemed to match our intensity, rain lashing the gazebo and wind howling through the trees.

"I've been wanting to do that since I pulled you away from Miller's Rocks," Noah admitted, his voice rougher than usual.

"Even though I was a helpless tourist who couldn't operate a boat?" I teased, staying within the circle of his arms.

"Especially then," he smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Something about the way you admitted you were in over your head but refused to panic. It was... compelling."

Another flash of lightning reminded us of our precarious situation. Noah glanced out at the storm, which showed no signs of abating.

"We should probably make a run for it once there's a break in the lightning," he said reluctantly. "Getting dark soon, and we don't want to navigate that trail after sunset."

As if the weather heard him, the rain suddenly intensified, sheets of water making visibility beyond the gazebo nearly impossible.

"Or not," I laughed, pressing closer to his warmth.

He smiled down at me, arms tightening around my waist. "I guess we're stuck here a little longer."

"What a terrible fate," I murmured, rising to my toes to press another kiss to his lips.

This one was slower, more deliberate, both of us exploring what we'd started. His hands were respectful but confident, spanning my waist, tracing the curve of my spine. I let my fingers wander into his hair, slightly damp from the rain, reveling in the solid strength of him against me.

When we separated again, I saw something flash across his face—a hesitation that hadn't been there before.

"What?" I asked.

"This isn't just..." he started, then paused, searching for words. "I don't want you to think this is how I behave with every tourist who passes through."

The confession touched me, his concern for how I might perceive him revealing a vulnerability I hadn't expected from someone so outwardly confident.

"I don't think that," I assured him. "And for the record, I don't make a habit of kissing local law enforcement in every town I visit."

His smile returned, relief evident. "Good to know."

Just then, the downpour eased slightly, though thunder still rumbled in the distance. Noah stepped to the edge of the gazebo, assessing the conditions.

"We should go now," he said decisively. "There's enough of a break that we can make it back to the trailhead if we hurry."

He helped me back into his jacket, zipping it up despite my protests that he'd get soaked. We shouldered his backpack together and stood at the edge of our shelter, looking out at the rain-slick trail.

"Ready?" he asked, taking my hand.

"No," I laughed, "but let's do it anyway."

We burst out of the gazebo into the rain, immediately drenched despite the lessened downpour.

Noah kept a firm grip on my hand as we half-ran, half-slid down the muddy trail.

What had been a pleasant hike up became a treacherous descent, but Noah navigated it with confidence, steadying me whenever I slipped.

The combination of adrenaline, exertion, and the lingering euphoria from our kisses created a giddy lightness in me.

I found myself laughing as we splashed through puddles and ducked under dripping branches.

Noah's answering grin flashed white against his rain-darkened face, his eyes alight with the same wild joy.

By the time we reached his Jeep, we were completely soaked, mud-spattered, and breathless with exertion and laughter. The drive back to the resort passed in comfortable quiet, the Jeep's heater slowly drying our clothes as rain continued to drum on the roof.

When we pulled up to my cabin, the storm had eased to a gentle shower. Noah insisted on walking me to my door, though we were both already as wet as we could possibly be.

Standing on my porch, I suddenly felt shy, the intimacy of our gazebo kisses seeming almost dreamlike in the return to reality. Noah sensed my hesitation, maintaining a small distance between us despite the obvious desire still simmering in his eyes.

"You should get inside, get dry," he said, voice husky. "Don't want you catching cold."

"You too," I said, reluctant to end our time together. "Thank you for today. Waterfall, storm and all."

"My pleasure," he replied, his gaze dropping to my lips briefly before returning to my eyes. The restraint evident in his posture made my heart race—he wanted to kiss me again but was holding back, giving me space.

The realization of his thoughtfulness, his careful respect for boundaries even after what we'd shared, made me want him even more. I stepped forward, intending to close the distance between us, when a crack of nearby thunder made us both jump.

The moment broke, and Noah stepped back with visible reluctance. "I should go," he said, though everything in his stance suggested he wanted to stay.

"You should," I agreed, not meaning it at all.

His smile told me he knew exactly what I was thinking. "Goodnight, Didi from Chicago," he said, echoing his words from the previous night.

"Goodnight, Detective Mountain Man," I replied, watching as he turned and walked back to his Jeep, rain plastering his shirt to the broad planes of his back.

I stood there long after his taillights disappeared, rain mingling with the lingering warmth of his kiss on my lips.

Whatever was happening between us had just shifted into dangerous territory.

Noah Sterling was no longer just my attractive neighbor or a potential friend—he was quickly becoming something much more complicated.

And as I finally turned to enter my cabin, I couldn't help wondering if I was making the biggest mistake of my life by letting him get so close—or if pushing him away would be the real mistake.