Chapter 3

I avoided him the next day.

Or tried to.

I left for work before seven, came back after nine, and kept my headphones on the entire time I was home. It didn’t matter. Every time I walked past his door my pulse jumped. Every accidental creak of the floorboards made me wonder if he could hear me the same way I heard him.

By Sunday night I was climbing the walls.

I cooked something I barely tasted, took another long shower, and crawled into bed early with a book I couldn’t focus on. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. I kept waiting for the familiar sounds to start—the low murmur of a woman’s voice, the shift of bodies, the first solid knock of the headboard against our wall.

Nothing came.

I lay there in the dark, restless, thighs pressed together, trying not to think about the way he’d looked at me in the hallway. The calm way he’d said my name. The fact that he knew exactly what I’d been doing on my side of the wall.

Around midnight I gave up on sleep and got up for water.

The kitchen was dark except for the soft glow of the city through the window. I filled a glass, drank half of it, and was turning back toward the bedroom when I heard the soft click of a door in the hallway.

I froze.

Footsteps. Slow. Then a quiet knock on my door.

Three soft taps. Same as before.

My heart slammed so hard I felt it in my throat.

I set the glass down, smoothed my oversized T-shirt over my hips, and opened the door.

Noah stood there in black sweatpants and a faded gray T-shirt this time. Hair slightly messy, like he’d been running his hands through it. His eyes moved over me once—quick, assessing—then settled on my face.

“Can’t sleep either?” he asked.

I shook my head.

He didn’t smile, but something in his expression softened. “Come here for a second.”

I should have said no. I should have closed the door and gone back to bed.

Instead I stepped into the hallway.

He didn’t move back. The space between us was small. I could smell the clean soap on his skin again, the faint warmth underneath it. The hallway light was dim, casting shadows along the line of his jaw.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said. Voice low. “Last two nights.”

“I was trying to be polite.”

A small huff of amusement left him. “Polite.” He tilted his head slightly. “That why you were listening so carefully the night before?”

Heat flooded my face. I didn’t answer.

Noah’s gaze dropped to my mouth for half a second, then came back up. “I could hear you too, you know.”

My stomach flipped hard.

He took one slow step closer. Not touching. Just close enough that I had to tip my head back to keep looking at him. “The night I knocked. After she left. You were still standing right there against the wall, weren’t you?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

“And you touched yourself.”

It wasn’t a question.

I nodded once, barely.

His eyes darkened. “Did you come?”

The air between us felt charged, thick. I could hear my own pulse in my ears.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Noah’s jaw flexed. He didn’t look away. “Show me.”

My breath caught.

He didn’t repeat himself. He just waited, calm and patient, like he already knew what I was going to do.

I glanced once down the empty hallway. No one. Then I reached under the hem of my T-shirt with shaking fingers and slid my hand between my legs. I was already wet. Embarrassingly so. Two fingers slipped through the slick heat easily.

Noah’s gaze stayed locked on my face as I touched myself right there in the hallway. His breathing stayed steady, but I watched the way his throat moved when he swallowed.

“Deeper,” he said quietly.

I pushed two fingers inside myself and bit back a soft sound. My other hand braced against the doorframe. I fucked myself slowly, eyes never leaving his, while he watched every micro-expression that crossed my face.

“Good,” he murmured. “Just like that.”

The praise sent a fresh pulse of heat straight through me. I worked my fingers faster, the wet sound soft but unmistakable in the quiet hallway. My knees felt weak. I was already close—too close, too fast—just from the way he was looking at me.

“Noah—”

“I know.” His voice stayed low, controlled. “Come for me.”

The command undid me.

I came hard, silent, shoulders curling forward as the orgasm ripped through me. My fingers stayed buried inside myself while the waves kept rolling. Noah didn’t touch me. He just watched, eyes dark and focused, until the last tremor left my body.

When I finally pulled my hand free, my fingers were shiny. He caught my wrist gently, lifted it, and without breaking eye contact, closed his mouth around two of my fingers.

The heat of his tongue made my knees nearly give out.

He sucked them clean, slow and thorough, then released my wrist.

“Next time,” he said, voice rougher now, “you’re going to do that on my side of the wall.”

I stared at him, still breathing hard.

He stepped back just enough to give me space. “Go back to bed, Maya.”

I didn’t move right away. My body was still humming, empty and aching for more.

Noah’s mouth curved slightly, like he could read every thought in my head. “Soon,” he said. Quiet. Certain. “But not while you’re still shaking in the hallway.”

Then he turned and walked the few steps to his door. He glanced back once before he disappeared inside.

I stood there for a long moment after the lock clicked, fingers still damp, pulse still racing.

When I finally went back into my apartment and closed the door, I leaned against it and pressed my thighs together.

I could still feel the exact place where his mouth had been on my fingers.

And I already knew that the next time he knocked, I wouldn’t be opening the door in a T-shirt.

I’d be opening it ready.