LOGINAlexandra's POV
The train rattled north out of the city, carrying me away from the hotel, away from him, away from the mistake I could still feel between my thighs. I pressed my forehead to the cold window, watching the skyline blur into gray December morning. My reflection stared back—eyes shadowed, lips still swollen from his bites, cheeks flushed with something that wasn’t just shame. I’d done it again. Let someone in, let them see the cracks, then run before they could decide I wasn’t worth keeping. My phone buzzed in my coat pocket. A new client email. Perfect timing. Freelance life never let you wallow for long. The job was in Portland—three weeks of branding for a boutique coffee roaster. Decent pay, decent escape. I’d booked the ticket on the platform last night while Jace slept beside me, his arm slung possessively across my waist. I’d stared at the ceiling for an hour, heart hammering, before slipping out like a thief. Now the city was behind me, and the ache between my legs was the only reminder he’d been real. I arrived in Portland just after noon. The Airbnb was a converted loft above a bookstore in the Pearl District—exposed brick, high ceilings, a clawfoot tub I planned to drown my regrets in later. I dropped my bag, stripped, and stood under the shower until the water ran cold. My skin still bore faint purple marks from his fingers, his mouth. I traced them with soap-slick fingertips, remembering how he’d growled my name when he came inside me. Fuck. Stop. I dressed in black jeans and a soft gray sweater, hair still damp, and headed out to meet the client. The roastery smelled like dark beans and cedar smoke. The owner, Mara—a sharp-eyed woman in her forties—shook my hand and launched straight into mood boards and color palettes. I nodded, sketched, asked the right questions. Professional. Detached. But every time I leaned over the table, the seam of my jeans pressed against the sensitive spot he’d bruised with his hips, and my breath caught. That night I met Caleb. He was one of Mara’s graphic assistants—tall, tattooed forearms, easy smile, the kind of guy who looked like he knew exactly how to make a woman forget her own name for a few hours. We ended up at a dive bar after the meeting, talking fonts and kerning over cheap IPAs. He laughed at my dry humor, touched my arm when he spoke, leaned in close enough that I could smell his cologne—sandalwood and citrus, nothing like Jace’s cedar-and-smoke. When he asked if I wanted to see his place, I said yes. His apartment was small, cluttered with art prints and vinyl records. We didn’t waste time on small talk. He kissed me against the door, hands sliding under my sweater, warm and sure. I kissed him back harder, trying to drown the memory of another mouth, another set of hands. He lifted me onto the kitchen counter. My jeans came off in a rush. He dropped to his knees, pushed my thighs apart, and licked a slow stripe up my center. I moaned—loud, deliberate—wanting to prove I could still feel something other than Jace. Caleb was good. Patient. He teased my clit with soft flicks, then sucked, then slid two fingers inside, curling them just right. The build was steady, familiar, safe. I threaded my fingers through his hair, hips rocking, chasing release. When I came, it was sharp and quick, a bright flash that left me trembling but not shattered. He stood, wiped his mouth, grinning. “Bedroom?” I nodded. We fucked on top of the covers, slow at first, then faster. He was careful, attentive—asked if I liked it deeper, harder, slower. I did. I came again, nails digging into his back, but it felt… polite. Controlled. Like we were both performing satisfaction instead of surrendering to it. After, he rolled off, kissed my shoulder, and asked if I wanted to stay the night. I told him I had an early call. I dressed in the dark while he slept, just like I’d dressed in Jace’s hotel room. Slipped out. Walked the cold streets back to my loft. The clawfoot tub waited. I filled it with scalding water and lavender oil, sank in up to my chin, and let the heat soak into my bones. And then the memories came, uninvited. Jace’s mouth between my thighs, relentless, hungry. The way he’d looked up at me while he licked, eyes dark and possessive. The stretch of him inside me, thick and unyielding, hitting places that made my vision white out. The sound he’d made when I clenched around him—raw, broken, like I’d ruined him. My hand drifted down between my legs almost without thought. I was still sensitive from earlier, but this was different. This was need. I circled my clit slowly, remembering the way he’d pinned my wrists above my head, the way his teeth had grazed my throat. My other hand cupped my breast, pinching the nipple until it ached. I imagined his voice in my ear—low, filthy, telling me to come for him again. The water sloshed as my hips lifted, chasing the ghost of his cock. I slid two fingers inside myself, then three, stretching, mimicking the fullness I still craved. My thumb worked my clit in tight circles, pressure building, fast and desperate. When I came, it was violent—back arching, water spilling over the edge, a choked cry echoing off the tiles. My thighs shook. My chest heaved. And when the aftershocks faded, I was left with tears mixing with bathwater. Because it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. I climbed out, wrapped myself in a towel, and padded to the bedroom. My sketchbook lay open on the desk. I flipped to a blank page and started drawing—sharp lines, bold shadows, a man’s profile in the dark. Broad shoulders. Jaw clenched. Eyes that burned. I didn’t label it. I didn’t need to. I closed the book, turned off the light, and crawled into bed alone. Tomorrow I’d work. I’d smile at Mara and Caleb. I’d pretend the night with Jace was just another story I’d tell myself when I was old and safe. But tonight, with the city quiet outside and the ache still pulsing between my legs, I let myself admit the truth. I wanted him again. And I was terrified that I always would.The front door opened at 6:12.Maya heard the familiar jingle of keys, the roll of suitcase wheels over the threshold, her mother’s voice calling out that they were home and the traffic had been worse than expected. She was already in the kitchen, standing at the island with a glass of water she didn’t want, the sweater collar tugged high enough to cover the newest mark on her neck. Every shift of her weight reminded her what Noah had left inside her less than an hour earlier.Noah came down the stairs a few seconds later, hair still damp from a quick shower, expression carefully blank. He took the suitcase from their father without being asked and carried it toward the laundry room like any other Sunday night. Their mother kissed Maya’s cheek, talking already about the restaurant they’d found and how the hotel had been too cold. Maya smiled and nodded and felt the slow, warm evidence of her stepbrother still leaking out of her while she listened.
The light outside had turned that late-afternoon gold that always made the house feel smaller. Maya stood in the upstairs bathroom with the door closed, staring at her own reflection. A faint bruise darkened the side of her neck where his mouth had been. She tugged the collar of her sweater higher, then lower again, testing what would show. Nothing looked ordinary anymore. Her lips were still a little swollen. Her thighs still ached in that deep, pleasant way that made walking feel like a secret.Downstairs the front door opened and closed. Not their parents—too early. Just Noah coming in from the garage, the soft thud of his shoes against the mat. She heard him move through the kitchen, then the living room, then the quiet creak of the stairs.He didn’t knock. The bathroom door opened and he stepped inside, closing it behind him. The space was small. His presence filled it immediately. He was still in the black T-shirt from earlier, the fabric stretched acros
The clock on the microwave read 2:17 when Maya found herself back in his doorway.She hadn’t planned it. She’d spent the last two hours trying to do ordinary things—answering emails, folding the clothes that had finished drying, wiping down counters that were already clean. None of it stuck. Every time she moved she felt the slow, warm evidence of him still inside her from the laundry room. The knowledge sat low in her belly like a second pulse.Noah was on the bed, back against the headboard, phone in hand. He looked up the second her shadow crossed the threshold. The phone went face-down on the nightstand without a word.“Come here.”She crossed the room. He didn’t make her wait. The second she was within reach he pulled her down onto the mattress, rolling them until she was on her back and he was braced over her. His mouth found hers, open and hungry, tasting faintly of the coffee he’d made earlier. One hand shoved her sleep shirt up
Sunday morning arrived gray and quiet. The kind of light that made everything feel suspended. Maya woke alone in her own bed for the first time since Friday night, the sheets cool where Noah’s body had been. For a few seconds she thought maybe the spell had broken—that the weekend had burned itself out and they would spend the last day pretending nothing had happened.Then she heard the dryer running downstairs.She found him in the laundry room with the door half-open, folding a T-shirt that didn’t need folding. He was barefoot, in black joggers and nothing else, the muscles of his back shifting under the skin every time he moved. The small room smelled like detergent and warm fabric. When he looked up and saw her in the doorway, the careful distance she’d been bracing for wasn’t there.“Come in,” he said. “Close it.”She stepped inside and shut the door. The click of the latch felt louder than it should have. Noah set the folded shirt
The television was on but neither of them was watching it.Maya sat curled in the corner of the living-room couch with her knees drawn up, the soft throw blanket draped over her lap more for something to do with her hands than for warmth. Noah occupied the opposite end, one arm stretched along the back cushions, legs spread in that casual way that took up space. The blue light from the screen flickered across his face. Every few minutes his eyes left the show and settled on her instead.The house felt too quiet. The clock on the cable box read 11:47. Their parents would be back in a little over a day. The knowledge sat between them like a third person on the couch.“Come here,” Noah said eventually. His voice was low, almost conversational.Maya didn’t pretend she hadn’t been waiting for it. She shifted across the cushions until she was close enough that his outstretched arm could settle around her shoulders. The second she was within re
The table was set for two like it always was when their parents were gone—plates, glasses, the same scratched wood surface they’d eaten at for years. Maya had thrown on a soft sweater and clean shorts after the shower. The fabric felt wrong against her skin. Every time she shifted in the chair she felt the slow, warm evidence of him still inside her, exactly the way he’d promised. Noah sat across from her in a clean black T-shirt and the same sweatpants he’d pulled on after. He looked calm. Almost ordinary. The only giveaway was the faint red mark on the side of his neck that her mouth had left and the way his eyes kept dropping to her mouth whenever she lifted her fork. They ate in near silence for the first few minutes. The only sounds were the scrape of cutlery and the low hum of the refrigerator. Maya forced herself to take small bites. Her body still hummed from the shower. Sitting still felt like a test she was already failing.







