Chapter 24 Maya
MAYA
Honestly, I’d never met anyone with as much grace as Claire.
Noah had told me about Napoleon’s attempts to badmouth the Lazy Moose, which, let’s face it, was basically a smear campaign against the Lucases.
I’d never felt smaller. I’d apologized over and over to both Elia and Claire, but especially Claire.
And she just pulled me into a hug and told me not to worry, and not to do anything rash.
“Don’t stir the pot that doesn’t need stirring,” she’d told me. “I’m stepping back from the wedding business anyway.”
Saving that piece of trash had been my biggest mistake. I wish I could drag him back to that landslide and let it end differently. Let him see how it felt to be left for dead, and actually die from it.
Everything around him was still murky. No new threats, no fresh reviews, no unexpected heat. Noah and I had agreed that keeping the status quo was the smartest call. Until we had a solid plan for handling the second heist, staying put wasn’t just cautious. It was survival.
We never said it out loud, but we both knew. One day, Napoleon would pay.
This morning, Noah and I were at The Sundown. He had been pacing around the porch like a cat waiting for the can opener. When the delivery truck finally pulled up, he muttered, “Thank God,” under his breath, like our fate depended on it.
Rightly so. Because the “to be continued” from the other night came fast.
I watched the movers haul the king-size bed inside.
The frame went in first, a rustic wood-and-metal combo that looked like it had been handcrafted by a mountain man with feelings. Then came the mattress—thick, decadent, and plush enough to double as a life raft for royalty.
Heat pooled between my legs as I pictured him taking me hard, abusing the bedhead, and bouncing me all over.
“So,” he said, his hands on his hips once the room was cleared out again, “which way should we face it? Headboard toward the window or the wall?”
“You’re asking my opinion?”
“Unless you want me to make the decision and then hear about it every time the sun hits your face wrong.”
Fair point.
I tilted my head, imagining the morning light pouring in. “Window. Makes it feel more open.”
“Window it is,” he said, already dragging the bed frame.
I reached for the bedding, which was still sealed in a shopping bag. “Did you get sheets?”
He looked oddly proud. “Three sets.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Let me guess. Gray, gray, and…gray?”
He had the decency to grin. “I almost grabbed navy.”
Reko, who had been snoozing in the hallway until now, suddenly got up and padded into the room. He circled the room twice, then let out a quiet little huff and sat facing the corner.
“Is he…sulking?” I asked.
Noah scratched the back of his head. “That’s his thinking face. Or his judging face. Hard to tell.”
Reko let out another huff, this time directed squarely at the bed.
“Oh no,” I said. “He doesn’t like it.”
“He doesn’t pay rent.”
“He pays in vibes.”
We both stood there, watching the dog like he was the world’s most passive-aggressive interior decorator.
Eventually, I got to work on making the bed, smoothing the fitted sheet into place while Noah unfolded the top one. We moved together as if we’d found a rhythm no one had taught us. And maybe that’s what beginnings were.
“Okay,” I said, my hands on my hips. “Which side is yours?”
He glanced at the bed, then back at me. “Left.”
I raised a brow. “Why?”
“Closer to the door. That way, if a burglar breaks in, I get taken out first.”
“How noble.”
“Also, it’s the side closer to the bathroom.”
I rolled my eyes. “There it is.”
“I’m practical,” he said, grinning as he grabbed the pillows. “And you…what? Need the right side so you can roll over and ignore the world?”
“Exactly,” I said, tossing him a pillow. “You’re learning.”
We smoothed, fluffed, and adjusted. At one point, I climbed up onto the mattress to fix the corner, and when I turned around, Noah was just watching me, pillow still in hand, his smile lazy and full of something close to affection.
“What?” I asked, though my voice had dropped.
He shrugged. “Just thinking this bed might be the best thing I’ve ever bought.”
The bed was made. Reko gave it one full circle, assessed it, then huffed and padded out of the room. Apparently, our craftsmanship didn’t meet his canine standards.
Noah and I stood in the doorway, side by side, staring at our handiwork.
I nudged him lightly. “So, what now?”
He glanced at me, then at the bed, then back again. “I guess we share custody.”
“Of the bed?”
“No.” He turned to face me fully, something softer playing at the edges of his mouth. “Of the future.”
Before I could breathe it in, he kissed me. There was none of the teasing he usually tossed in to make me laugh. This was hunger, straight from the source. His hand found the side of my neck, his thumb grazing just under my ear as if to tell me, you’re here, I see you, I want all of you.
He slid his hand under my shirt, brushing the curve of my breast. I gasped into his mouth, and he made a noise, low, like a man losing the last of his patience.
I was already undoing his belt when he stopped.
“We’ve just made the bed,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to nod toward it. “Look at it. It’s art. Be a shame to ruin it.”
“Noah!”
Before I could shove him onto the mattress anyway, he caught my wrist. “I have a better idea.”
He scooped me up in one fluid motion, his mouth finding mine again, and carried me out of the bedroom.
His kiss didn’t break, not once, even as he moved through the door and out into the beginning of sunset.
The Sundown wasn’t just a name. It was the land, the sky, and the way the day ended (or started) around us.
Reko padded behind us, paused at the top of the porch steps, then turned around.
“He’s gone fully domestic now,” I whispered against Noah’s jaw as he descended the steps.
“He knows what we’re up to,” Noah said, then suddenly spun, lifted me higher, and caught me so I straddled his hips.
By the time he laid me down on the grass, I was already aching for him. He took off his flannel and spread it out, inviting me to roll onto it. Then he lowered himself onto me.
“Damn, it’s hard to be patient,” he murmured against my ear, letting the weight of his hips sink a little deeper against me.
He unbuttoned my white shirt, parting the front until it hung wide open.
A smile curved my lips. “You’ve seen me.” My fingers skimmed up the back of his neck, threading into his hair.
His body tensed against mine. “No, I haven’t.”
I let out a quiet chuckle, heat flashing through me. He had. In that tent, half-dressed.
But Noah drowned my thoughts with his mouth as his fingers skimmed over my cleavage. “Okay, I saw, Blue, but I haven’t seen you like this,” he whispered and reached behind me, flicked the clasp of my bra, and let the fabric slide away until the air licked over my whole chest.
He gave my skin slow, lazy strokes. A brush of knuckles over ribs, tracing the curve of my waist and making me shiver even though the summer air was warm.
Noah might’ve been a self-confessed peaceful rancher, but here, on this land, beneath the Montana sky, his touch was like a god’s touch.
His gaze wandered over me. Heat roared through me as his hands roamed, exploring, before his mouth followed, pressing kisses down my collarbone and across my stomach, obsessing over me like he had waited a lifetime.
I yanked at his belt, popping the buckle free and dragging his jeans down enough to breathe him in. He smelled like leather, heat, testosterone, and something that was just Noah. Being out here instead of in a bed felt right. Whatever wild thing lived in us, it belonged to this bare earth.
He pulled back, dodging me with infuriating ease. “Gosh, you really are a storm.”
I growled in frustration, trying again, only for him to shift just out of reach.
“You gave me a taste, Noah!” I snapped. I could still feel the memory of him and how right he felt between my lips. Hard, slick, the rain coming down around us.
“And you can’t get over it?”
“No. I want it back.”
Before he could move again, I flipped us, pressing him down against the ground. I straddled his hips, my knees planted on either side.
His restraint held, but I wasn’t built for patience.
I pressed my mouth to him, teasing, tasting, and dragging my lips over the thick ridge that strained beneath his boxers. His breath hitched, his abs tightening beneath my fingers.
I wanted him undone.
I wanted him to scream for me.
Now naked and defenceless against my ravaging mouth, he held on as long as he could, his control a razor-thin edge.
I felt it in the way his muscles tensed and the way his fingers gripped my hips.
But then his breath hitched, his abs tightening beneath my touch, and he pulled me away with a ragged groan.
“Shh…Baby Blue, it’s my turn now.”
I lifted my head, licking my lips and savoring the taste of him. “I haven’t had enough.”
“You want to make me come?” His voice was all gravel, rough and hopeless.
I ran my hands up his taut stomach, feeling the tremor in his body. “Yes.”
“You want it in your mouth?”
“Yes.”
His head tipped back against the ground. When he looked at me again, his expression was pure surrender. “I’m here to please you, baby. Whatever you want.”
And I wanted.
I took him in my mouth again, deeper, greedier. I loved the way he came apart for me, the way his strong hands threaded into my hair but never forced, just held, like he needed something to cling to. Curses slipped past his lips, his entire body coiling tighter beneath me.
A strangled groan. A shudder.
He pulsed on my tongue, and I took every last drop. The taste of him was sweet, yet powerful, masculine, and unsubtle. Whatever he was made of, he was made to be consumed by me.
I pressed a final kiss to his hip before I curled against him. Our breath slowed as we stared up. The stars began to glimmer, scattered across the heavens.
He was still catching his breath, and I was still aching.
Maybe he’d been right all along. I should’ve let him have his turn.
Because now?
I wanted him again, double time!
“What is it, Blue?” he asked, probably feeling me getting shifty.
I bit my lip, unable to hide my restless need. Guilt flickered for half a second, but the hunger drowned it out.
“Are you still in pleasing mode?” I whispered, testing him.
His hand curved around my hip. “Always. For you.”
“Can we?”
He moved before I could take another breath, covering me with his body. His hands dragged over my skin, relearning, reclaiming.
Still strong.
Still starving.
Sweet mercy!
I mean, I’d half-expected him to laugh, kiss my forehead, and tell me to let him catch his breath. Maybe even make some comment about how I’d “wrecked him.”
But no.
He was back on top of me, rock-hard, and clearly up for the challenge.
His hands were everywhere. Firm against my thighs, sliding up to my waist, and anchoring me beneath him. He pressed me down, his body a perfect weight, a perfect heat, his chest against mine, his heartbeat wild and pounding.
Any doubts about his stamina?
Gone.
I blinked up at him, more than a little impressed, almost too impressed that I forgot to, well, give him room to actually reach my opening.
“What’s the matter, Blue? Thought I was tapped out?” he said as he reached for a condom from his crumpled shirt on the ground.
I swallowed, suddenly unsure if I was the one who’d bitten off more than I could chew. I mean, that hard thing in between my thighs was a sight to see, and a part of him that would shred me to the point of no return.
He dipped down, his lips grazing my ear. “For you? I’m always ready.”
And just like that, he kissed me senseless, his tongue sweeping in and stealing every teasing thought I had left.
His fingers spread wide over my hips, holding me in place and keeping me exactly where he wanted me as he rocked against me. His length teased my opening.
“Noah…”
I moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound with a kiss that was hungry and possessive. And in between his gasps, he thrusted himself in, letting me feel every inch of him.
“You feel so damn good, Blue,” he groaned.
His hands tightened at my hips, guiding the rhythm and coaxing more from me—more heat, more need, more of the ache pooling between us.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, my body moving instinctively, chasing the friction, the pressure, and the pure pleasure that coiled tighter with every slow, relentless thrust.
Now his grip slid lower, his fingers digging into the backs of my thighs before he hooked one over his arm, spreading me wider and angling deeper.
I cried out, the sensation almost too overwhelming. But God, I didn’t want him to stop.
Didn’t want this to end.
His hips rolled into mine with restraint, yet his thrusts grew more urgent. He was holding himself back for me, but he was unraveling all the same.
He was so controlled. Always the one taking care of me and making sure I fell apart first before he even let himself think about his own pleasure.
But not this time.
Tonight, he needed me just as much as I needed him.
I tangled my fingers into his hair, pulling him to me and capturing his lips in a kiss that was all fire and demand.
“No holding back, cowboy.”
Something snapped in his gaze, a growl slipping from his throat, and then he was gone.
Gone to pure instinct, pure hunger, pure Noah.
His thrusts came rougher, but still perfectly in tune with me, still pulling sounds from me that I didn’t know I could make. His name left my lips, my nails digging into his back, and he groaned, pressing his forehead against mine.
And when the pleasure crashed over me, when my body clenched tight around him, when I shattered in his arms, he followed me down.
We collapsed together, his weight pinning me to the ground. His lips found my temple, my cheek, my jaw as our breathing slowed, as our hearts pounded in sync.
I caught his face in my hands, gasping against his lips. “What the hell are you made of?”
He chuckled. “You tell me, baby. Since you’re the one testing me.”
I whimpered, my fingers digging into his back. God, I had tested him.
“We should do this more often, Blue,” he challenged.
“Uh-huh. Maybe in bed next time,” I shot back, adjusting against the ground as it dug into my spine. Not that I was complaining. Tonight was glorious, but still. “And we’re not keeping those gray sheets, by the way.”
He chuckled.
“I’m serious, Lucas. Or your something blue won’t be optional,” I said, giving his balls a warning squeeze.
He tensed with a groan. It either hurt him, turned him on, or both.