chapter 3: Not Staying Away

Maya woke up already wet.

It was pathetic. She had come hard on her own balcony the night before with Noah’s voice in her ear, and still her body woke up aching for more. She dragged herself into the shower and turned the water as cold as it would go. It didn’t help. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the way his arm had flexed while he stroked himself, the low broken sound he made when he finished.

She dressed in the least inviting clothes she owned—an old oversized T-shirt and black bike shorts—and forced herself to unpack. Boxes. Labels. Anything that didn’t involve thinking about the man six feet of grass away who had promised he was coming over.

By noon she had made it through three boxes and half a pot of coffee. Her phone stayed silent. She told herself that was a good thing.

At 12:17 the knock came.

Not the polite kind. Three firm, confident raps that said he already knew she was going to open the door.

Maya stood in the middle of the living room for a full five seconds, heart slamming, before she walked over and pulled it open.

Noah leaned against the doorframe like he had every right to be there. Dark gray T-shirt stretched across his chest, black joggers, the same easy smile that had ruined her concentration since high school. Up close he smelled like clean soap and something warmer underneath.

“Told you I wasn’t staying on my side,” he said.

Maya gripped the edge of the door. “You can’t just show up.”

“I texted.” He held up his phone. “Twice. You left me on read.”

She had. Both times. Because every time his name appeared on her screen her stomach dropped and her thighs pressed together.

Noah’s gaze drifted down her body, slow and deliberate. “Nice shirt. Still doesn’t hide the fact that you’re not wearing a bra.”

Maya’s face burned. She crossed her arms. “What do you want, Noah?”

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The apartment suddenly felt half its size.

“I want what I wanted last night,” he said quietly. “Except this time I get to touch you.”

The air left her lungs.

Noah didn’t rush. He walked past her into the living room, glancing at the half-unpacked boxes, the mattress on the floor, the single mug in the sink. When he turned back his expression had softened for half a second—something almost tender—before the heat returned.

“You really just got here,” he murmured. “Starting over.”

“That’s the idea.”

“With me next door.”

“Unfortunately.”

He huffed a quiet laugh and closed the distance between them. Maya backed up until her shoulders hit the wall beside the kitchen entrance. Noah stopped with maybe six inches of space left, close enough that she had to tip her head up to meet his eyes.

“You came on your fingers for me last night,” he said, voice low. “I watched every second of it. You think I’m going to pretend that didn’t happen?”

Maya’s throat worked. “It was a mistake.”

“Was it?”

His hand came up slowly, giving her time to stop him. When she didn’t, he brushed his knuckles along the side of her neck, then lower, tracing the collar of her T-shirt. His thumb dragged across her collarbone.

“I’ve wanted you since we were sixteen,” he said. “I wanted you the night behind the bleachers. I wanted you every time you came home for the holidays and acted like we were just old neighbors. And I really fucking wanted you last night when you took that shirt off for me.”

Maya’s breath was coming too fast. “Noah—”

He kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. It was the kind of kiss that said he had been patient long enough. His mouth opened over hers, tongue sliding in like he already owned the right, one hand cupping the back of her neck to keep her exactly where he wanted her. Maya made a broken sound against his lips and kissed him back harder.

Noah groaned like she’d given him permission. He pressed her fully into the wall, body aligning with hers, and she felt exactly how hard he was through the thin fabric of his joggers. The thick length of him nudged against her lower stomach. Her hips rolled forward on instinct.

“Fuck,” he muttered against her mouth. “You have no idea how many times I jacked off thinking about this.”

His hands slid under her T-shirt, palms hot against her bare waist, then higher. When he cupped her breasts and dragged his thumbs over her nipples she broke the kiss with a gasp.

Noah watched her face while he rolled the tight peaks between his fingers. “Sensitive. I remember. You used to get like this when I kissed your neck.”

“That was years ago.”

“Some things don’t change.” He lowered his head and bit gently at the side of her throat, then soothed it with his tongue. “You still make that same little sound.”

Maya’s hands found his shirt and shoved it upward. Noah stepped back only long enough to yank it off and toss it aside. The body she had watched from the balcony was even better up close—hard planes of muscle, the faint scar on his collarbone, a happy trail that disappeared into his waistband. She dragged her nails down his chest and felt him shudder.

Noah’s control slipped. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her bike shorts and peeled them down along with her underwear in one motion. Maya stepped out of them on unsteady legs. Then she was naked from the waist down in the middle of her half-unpacked apartment while the boy next door looked at her like he was starving.

“Christ, Maya.” His voice was rough. He dropped to his knees right there on the hardwood.

She barely had time to process it before he hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and put his mouth on her.

The first long lick made her cry out. Noah didn’t tease. He ate her like he had been thinking about it for years—tongue flat and filthy against her clit, two fingers sliding inside her without warning. She was so wet the sound of it was obscene. Her head fell back against the wall. One hand tangled in his hair; the other braced against the plaster.

“Noah—oh my god—”

He made a low approving sound and sucked her clit between his lips. The dual sensation of his mouth and the steady thrust of his fingers pushed her toward the edge humiliatingly fast. She tried to warn him. The only thing that came out was a broken moan as the orgasm slammed through her.

Noah worked her through it, slowing only when she started to tremble from oversensitivity. Then he stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and kissed her hard enough that she tasted herself on his tongue.

“Bed,” he said against her lips. “Or the mattress. I don’t care. I need to be inside you.”

Maya nodded, dazed. She let him walk her backward until her calves hit the edge of the mattress on the floor. She sank down. Noah shoved his joggers and boxers off in one push. His cock sprang free—thick, flushed, already glistening at the tip. She reached for him on instinct, wrapping her fingers around the hot length and stroking once, twice.

Noah’s hips jerked. “Shit. Condom. Wallet.”

He found it, tore the packet with his teeth, and rolled it on with hands that weren’t entirely steady. Then he was over her, settling between her thighs, the blunt head of him sliding through her wetness.

He locked eyes with her. “You sure?”

Maya hooked her legs around his waist in answer.

Noah pushed in slow and deep, one long thrust that stole her breath. The stretch was perfect, almost too much. He buried himself to the hilt and stayed there for a second, forehead pressed to hers, both of them breathing hard.

“Fuck, you feel—” He broke off with a groan when she clenched around him. “Maya.”

He started moving. Deep, steady strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside her. The mattress shifted on the floor with every thrust. Maya’s nails dug into his shoulders. She could already feel another orgasm building, low and heavy.

Noah shifted the angle, hitching one of her legs higher, and the next thrust hit something that made her see white. She cried out. He did it again. And again. His rhythm turned harder, more desperate, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the quiet apartment.

“Come on,” he gritted out. “Give me another one. I want to feel it.”

Maya shattered with a broken moan, pulsing around him. Noah followed a few thrusts later, burying himself deep and groaning her name into her neck like it had been punched out of him.

For a long time the only sound was their breathing.

Noah eventually pulled out, dealt with the condom, and came back down beside her on the mattress. He didn’t reach for his clothes. Neither did she. The afternoon light slanted across the floor, across their bare legs, across the boxes she still hadn’t finished unpacking.

Maya stared at the ceiling, pulse still racing, body pleasantly sore. The fear was already creeping back in—the old familiar voice that said this was how it started, this was how you got hurt.

Noah’s fingers brushed her wrist, tentative.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

She turned her head on the pillow and looked at him. The cocky edge was gone for the moment. He looked younger like this. More like the boy who used to share his fries and walk her home in the dark.

“I don’t do this,” she said.

“Do what?”

“Casual. Or complicated. Or… whatever this is going to turn into.”

Noah propped himself on one elbow. His free hand settled on her bare stomach, warm and steady. “Who said it has to be casual?”

Maya’s throat tightened. She sat up, reaching for her T-shirt, suddenly needing the armor. “I just got back. I’m trying to get my life together. I can’t—”

A phone rang.

Not hers. Noah’s. Still in the pocket of his discarded joggers.

He ignored it. It rang again. Then a third time.

Noah muttered a curse, grabbed the phone, and glanced at the screen. Whatever he saw made his expression tighten.

“I have to take this,” he said.

Maya pulled the shirt over her head and stood, suddenly needing distance. “Go ahead.”

He answered while still naked, voice shifting into something more professional. She only caught fragments—*yeah, I’m on my way* and *give me twenty minutes*—before he ended the call.

Noah looked at her, conflict clear on his face. “Work emergency. One of my clients—”

“It’s fine.” Maya kept her voice light even though something cold had settled under her ribs. “You should go.”

He stepped into his clothes quickly, then crossed the room and cupped her face with both hands. The kiss he gave her was slower this time, almost careful.

“This isn’t me walking away,” he said against her mouth. “I’ll be back tonight. We’re not done.”

Maya didn’t answer.

Noah hesitated at the door, looking at her like he wanted to say more. Then he left.

The apartment felt too quiet after the door clicked shut.

Maya sat back down on the mattress that still smelled like sex and Noah’s cologne. She could still feel him between her legs. She could still hear the way he had said her name when he came.

And she could already feel the walls she had spent years building starting to crack.

Her phone buzzed a few minutes later.

**Noah:**

Tonight.

Leave the door unlocked.

Maya stared at the message until the screen went dark.

She didn’t reply.

But she also didn’t lock the door.

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