Chapter 8: Still Here

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Maya woke up to the sound of rain and the solid warmth of Noah still pressed against her back.

For a few seconds she didn’t move. His arm was heavy across her waist, one of his legs slotted between hers, his breath slow and even against the back of her neck. The sheet was tangled around them. Somewhere beyond the sliding door, rain tapped steadily against the balcony railing.

She should have felt trapped.

Instead she felt safe in a way that scared her more than anything else.

Noah’s voice came rough with sleep. “You’re awake.”

“How can you tell?”

“Your breathing changed.” His arm tightened, pulling her more firmly against him. “You always do that when you start overthinking.”

Maya stared at the wall. “Maybe you should stop paying such close attention.”

“Not a chance.”

He pressed a slow kiss to the back of her shoulder, then another higher up, near the side of her neck. The simple affection made her stomach flip. She felt him harden gradually against the curve of her ass, but he didn’t push for anything. He just held her and kept pressing those unhurried kisses to her skin like they had nowhere else to be.

Eventually Maya rolled over to face him. Noah’s hair was a mess. There was a faint crease on his cheek from the pillow. He looked younger like this. Softer.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

“Hi.”

He brushed a strand of hair out of her face, fingers lingering at her temple. The tenderness in the gesture made her throat tighten. Maya leaned in and kissed him before she could talk herself out of it.

What started slow turned deeper fast. Noah made a low sound and rolled her under him, settling between her thighs. He was already hard, already rocking against her through the thin barrier of his boxers and her underwear. Maya arched up to meet him.

They didn’t rush.

Noah took his time stripping her shirt off, then her underwear, then his own. He kissed his way down her body, lingering on her breasts, her stomach, the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, until she was restless and reaching for him. When he finally rolled on a condom and pushed into her, it was slow and deep and devastatingly controlled.

He kept his eyes on hers the whole time.

Every stroke was measured. Every shift of his hips deliberate. One of his hands stayed laced with hers against the mattress. The other cupped her face like she might disappear if he wasn’t careful. The rain kept falling outside. The only other sounds were their breathing and the soft, wet slide of him moving inside her.

Maya came first, quiet and shaking, face pressed to the side of his neck. Noah followed a minute later with a low groan of her name, hips stuttering as he buried himself deep.

Afterward he didn’t pull away right away. He stayed inside her, weight carefully braced, and kissed her temple, her cheekbone, the corner of her mouth. Maya hated how much she liked it. She hated how much she wanted him to stay exactly where he was.

Eventually Noah eased out and dealt with the condom. When he came back he pulled her against his chest again without asking.

“Rain’s not stopping anytime soon,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m making breakfast.”

Maya’s first instinct was to tell him he didn’t have to. The words never made it out.

She watched him pull on his boxers and move around her still-half-unpacked kitchen like he’d done it a hundred times. He found the eggs she’d bought two days ago. He found the last of the bread. He made coffee the proper way instead of the instant she usually settled for.

They ate sitting on the mattress because she still didn’t own a table.

Noah kept glancing at her over the rim of his mug like he was waiting for her to bolt. Maya kept waiting for the panic to hit the way it usually did after they got too close.

It stayed quiet.

After breakfast he didn’t leave. Maya opened her laptop to work on a client logo and Noah stretched out beside her on the mattress with his phone, one hand occasionally drifting over to rest on her bare thigh like he needed the contact. Every now and then she felt him watching her instead of the screen.

“You’re staring again,” she said without looking up.

“You’re pretty when you’re concentrating.”

She shot him a look. Noah just smiled, unrepentant, and went back to his phone.

The domesticity of it should have felt strange. It didn’t. That was the problem.

Sometime after noon the rain finally slowed. Noah sat up and reached for his jeans.

Maya’s stomach dropped. “You’re leaving?”

He paused, looking at her. “Got a client at two. But I’ll be back later. If you want.”

She should have said something casual. Something that kept the boundary clear.

Instead she heard herself say, “Leave the door unlocked.”

Noah’s expression softened. He leaned down and kissed her once, slow and thorough, like he was already thinking about coming back.

“I will,” he said against her mouth. “And so will you.”

He left.

Maya sat on the mattress for a long time after the door closed, laptop forgotten beside her, the taste of him still on her tongue. The apartment felt too quiet without him in it. She hated that too.

She got up, walked to the door, and checked the lock.

Still unlocked.

Maya rested her forehead against the wood and closed her eyes.

She was falling.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to stop.

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