Chapter 2: Lock Your Door

Maya lasted exactly four hours before she cracked.

She had unpacked two boxes, ordered takeout she barely touched, and taken the world’s coldest shower. None of it helped. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Noah’s mouth forming the word *baby*, the way his sweatpants had hung low enough to show the sharp cut of muscle leading downward.

At 11:47 p.m. her phone lit up again.

**Noah:**

You’re still awake.

She stared at the message, thumb hovering. She should ignore it. She should put the phone on silent and go to sleep like a responsible adult who had sworn off complicated men.

Instead she typed:

**Maya:**

How do you know?

The reply was instant.

**Noah:**

Your light’s on.

And I’ve been standing on my balcony for twenty minutes waiting to see if you’d come back out.

Maya’s breath caught. She walked to the sliding door and pulled the curtain aside just enough to look.

Noah stood in the dark, shirtless again, one hand braced on the railing, phone glowing in the other. The moment he saw her, he lifted the phone to his ear.

Her phone rang.

She answered without thinking.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, voice low.

“And you’re still dressed in that little tank top,” he answered, eyes locked on her across the narrow strip of grass. “Take it off.”

Heat flooded her face and shot straight between her legs. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His voice was pure gravel. “I’ve been hard since you stepped onto that balcony this afternoon. Take the shirt off, Maya. Let me see what I’ve been missing.”

She should have hung up. She should have closed the curtain and blocked his number.

Instead she pinched the hem of the tank top and slowly dragged it up, over her stomach, over her bare breasts, and off. The cool night air tightened her nipples instantly.

Noah’s soft curse carried clearly through the phone.

“Fuck. Look at you.”

Maya’s free hand drifted down almost on its own, sliding beneath the waistband of the soft shorts she’d changed into. She was already soaked.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered, quiet and rough. “I want to watch.”

She should have said no.

She slid two fingers through her wetness instead and let out a shaky breath.

Noah’s voice dropped even lower. “That’s it. Rub that pretty clit for me. Pretend it’s my tongue.”

Maya’s head tipped back against the doorframe. She kept her eyes open, staring at him while she circled herself, hips rocking into her own hand. The phone was pressed between her ear and shoulder so both hands were free. One played with her breast, pinching the nipple the way she liked; the other worked faster between her legs.

“Noah—”

“I know, baby. You’re close already. Been thinking about me all night, haven’t you?”

She nodded even though he couldn’t see it clearly in the dark.

“Come to the railing,” he said. “I want a better view when you fall apart.”

Maya stepped forward until her thighs pressed against the cool metal. She was fully exposed to him now—naked from the waist up, shorts shoved down just enough, fingers glossy and moving.

Noah never looked away. His free hand disappeared below the railing. She could see the flex of his arm, the slow, filthy rhythm of him stroking himself while he watched her.

“Come for me,” he growled. “Right now. Let me hear it.”

The orgasm hit hard. Maya’s knees buckled. She bit down on a cry, forehead dropping against the railing as her fingers kept working through the waves. Across the grass she heard Noah’s low, broken groan as he followed her over.

For a long moment the only sound was both of them trying to catch their breath.

Then Noah spoke, voice wrecked and soft.

“Next time I make you come, it’ll be with my mouth. And you won’t be standing on a balcony six feet away from me.”

Maya’s legs were still shaking.

She whispered, “Lock your door, Carter.”

He laughed, low and dark.

“You first.”

The line went dead.

Maya stayed on the balcony a full minute longer, bare chest rising and falling, the night air cooling the sweat on her skin. When she finally stepped back inside and locked the sliding door, her phone lit up one last time.

**Noah:**

Sweet dreams, Reyes.

Tomorrow I’m coming over.

And I’m not staying on my side of the grass.

---

Heat has clearly escalated. Mutual orgasm across the balconies, strong sexual tension, and a direct promise of more tomorrow.