Chapter 32 Maya
MAYA
We hadn’t slept much. Maybe a couple of hours tops. Between the ticking clock on the necklace and everything waiting for us at noon, neither of us had managed to truly rest.
Right now, though, Noah was out cold, his bare chest peeking out from under the sheet, his one arm flung carelessly across the bed. He’d finally let himself stretch, not to claim space, but because he’d earned the right to it.
He didn’t know it, but he was heartbreakingly beautiful when he slept.
His jaw had a stubborn set even now, his lips parted just slightly. That same jaw had probably made a few girls weak once upon a time, but they never saw him like this. Not like I did. Peaceful and completely still. No armor. No shields. Just Noah.
I watched the dip of his collarbone, the way the light played against the muscles of his chest, and the shadows between them. There was a single freckle near his ribs that I’d never noticed before. How had I missed that?
God, I could’ve stared at him all morning. Maybe even kiss him over and over. Not because I needed something in return, but because he didn’t have to give anything back. The man just lay there and let me love him.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand, shattering the silence. He jolted, one arm shooting out as if expecting bad news. His body went from slack to alert in a second flat.
He checked the screen, then tilted it toward me.
The message said: If you’ve got her back, then I’ve got yours. Which means, I’ve got both your backs.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Dom. Dominic Powell. He’s a lawyer,” Noah said, his voice gravelly with sleep. “And a damn good one. Has pulled more people out of trouble than the number of meatball subs Jared Fogle has eaten.”
That earned him a dry look from me, which only made him smirk as he thumbed out a reply.
“He’s dodgy?” I asked, curling closer.
“There’s a little dodgy in every lawyer,” he said, tucking me into his side. “He’s sharp. Loyal. And if I have anything to say about it, nothing’s going to happen to you. Not on my watch.”
I buried myself against his chest, breathing him in—fresh linen, leftover aftershave, and the smell of him that I couldn’t live without. He was the last solid thing I could hold on to in a world trying to drown me.
“Why are you so good to me?” I whispered.
His arms tightened around me, his lips pressing into my hair.
“Because when you love someone,” he murmured, “you don’t let them go through hell alone.”
I lifted my head and kissed him softly. Then again, slower. And when he stirred beneath me, when I felt the length of him hard and waiting, I slid down his body, offering him the one thing I knew would silence his mind and steady mine.
His sigh said it all.
We needed this. Both of us.