Chapter 5

The water had stopped running, but I didn’t move. Steam curled in soft spirals around me as I sat on the closed toilet seat, towel wrapped around my chest, skin still damp. I could hear the distant hum of music downstairs, maybe jazz, maybe something slower, something lonely.

I didn’t plan to wear the silk nightwear.

I just… wanted to feel something different.

Noah had picked it out for me. It still had the tag on it. It was made of slippery, wine-red satin with lace cups and little gold clasps. It was far too revealing for someone who was supposed to be living in a guest room.

But I wasn’t just a guest anymore, was I?

And I was tired of pretending.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, the hallway light hit the fabric in a way that made my skin look like it belonged in someone else’s life. I padded down the stairs, drawn by the faint clink of glass and that low, slow music.

He was sitting at the bar in the corner of the open-plan living room, shirt sleeves rolled up, drink in one hand, staring into nothing.

For a second, I just watched him.

He looked like he hadn’t slept fully. There was something heavy on his shoulders, something he didn’t let anyone else see.

I crossed the room quietly, he heard me.

His head turned, and his eyes skimmed over me once, twice and then they stopped. His jaw twitched, and he set the glass down.

“Grace,” he said, like he hadn’t expected to see me.

“Can’t sleep,” I said softly, sitting on the other barstool. “And you?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“I don’t sleep much.”

I nodded, fiddling with the hem of my silk top. “Because of work?”

“Because of guilt.”

The answer stunned me into silence.

He poured another drink but didn’t sip it. Just stared into the amber like it might tell him who he was.

“I’m sorry,” I said after a moment.

He looked over. “For what?”

“For making this… complicated.”

That made him chuckle, not bitter, not cold, just tired.

“You didn’t make this complicated, Grace. I did. The second I let myself care.”

The room felt smaller and tighter like we were the only two people left in it.

I whispered, “Then stop pretending you don’t.”

His eyes flicked up. They locked with mine.

He stood, walked toward me and for a heartbeat, he just looked at me like he was memorizing something he knew he shouldn’t want. His hand lifted hesitantly, gently, and brushed a strand of damp hair from my cheek.

“You look like trouble,” he murmured.

“I am.”

Then he kissed me, not cautious, not curious this time. It was hungry, deep, full of frustration, and something I couldn’t name.

I gasped as his hands slid down my waist, gripping my hips like he was trying to hold back. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed closer. The silk shifted between us like a secret being undone.

He lifted me with one arm and carried me up the stairs. I didn’t even think to protest. I didn’t want to.

His bedroom door clicked shut behind us, and suddenly I was on his bed, beneath him, hair fanned out across the pillows.

He paused, forehead resting against mine.

“I need to ask you something,” he whispered.

“Okay.”

“Are you sure?”

I looked up at him.

“I’m a virgin,” I said. “But I’m not afraid of you.”

His hands shook slightly as he touched my cheek. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I’m not trying to,” I whispered. “I just… want you. Not because of the contract. Not because of the baby. Just you.”

His breath caught.

And then he kissed me again.

Slower and Softer now, he took his time.

His hands mapped my body like he was trying to memorize every inch. The silk came off, and I didn’t feel exposed, I felt seen and worshipped. My breath hitched as his mouth found my collarbone, then lower, his lips warm against my skin.

When he moved inside me, I cried out softly, and he stilled.

“It’s okay,” I breathed. “Don’t stop.”

The pain was real but it faded quickly melted into warmth, into pressure, into the strange, aching fullness of being touched by someone who wanted you and wasn’t trying to hurt you.

His mouth never left mine for long.

His name slipped from my lips over and over like a prayer.

And when I came, I clenched around him, body shaking, heart thudding against his chest.

He followed right after, groaning my name like it burned him.

We lay there for a long time, tangled in sweat and silence, his hand splayed across my stomach like he needed to remember what we’d done.

What we were becoming.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, breathless.

I shook my head against his chest. “Don’t be.”

I knew what he meant, not for touching me and for crossing the line but for not being able to stop.

I drifted off in his arms, lulled by the sound of his heartbeat.

When I woke the next morning, he was gone.

The spot beside me still held the warmth of his body, but the space felt cold and empty.

I slipped out of bed, wrapped his robe around me, and padded downstairs. On the counter, a cup of coffee sat waiting, steam curling upward like a quiet apology. A note was folded underneath it.

Be careful today. Don’t skip breakfast.

—Noah

I picked it up, held it for a moment.

Then I smiled because even if he couldn’t say the words…

He was starting to show them.