Chapter 17
MAYA
The lobby discussion about monthly cultural potlucks and quiet hours enforcement fades into background noise as I watch Ursak read the text message, his expression shifting from hope to something more complicated.
The way his massive shoulders tense under that threadbare shirt, how his tusks catch the fluorescent light when he looks up at me.
There's a story written in every line of his moss-green skin, and suddenly I'm not thinking about building policy at all.
More time.
The words echo through me as I realize what they mean. More time for him to stay. More time for us. My fingers tighten around the petition papers still warm from the printer, thirty-seven signatures that suddenly feel like both too much and not enough.
Mrs. Patterson's voice rises above the chatter, something about getting the building policy right, but all I can focus on is the way Ursak's chest moves when he takes a deep breath.
The way his hands flex at his sides like he's holding himself together.
The way he looks at me across the room and I feel it like a physical touch.
I need to get out of here.
The air in the lobby is too thick suddenly, too many people and not enough oxygen. I push through the crowd with murmured excuses, my laptop bag banging against my hip. The stairwell door slams behind me with a satisfying thud that echoes up the concrete walls.
Two flights up, my breath comes fast and my skin feels too tight. I lean against the wall, the cold of the paint against my palms grounding me. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting everything in that sickly yellow glow that makes all apartment buildings look the same.
Footsteps on the stairs.
I don't have to look to know it's him. The way the steps creak under his weight, the rhythm of his gait has become as familiar to me as my own heartbeat over these past weeks.
My pulse jumps when he comes into view, his massive frame taking up the whole stairwell, shoulders nearly brushing both walls.
"Maya." My name in his voice does something dangerous to my insides. He stops a step below me, bringing us almost eye to eye. The scent of him wraps around me as earth and old books and distant thunderstorms.
I should say something. Something about the hearing or the building policy or literally anything else besides what I'm actually thinking.
My mouth opens but nothing comes out because all I can focus on is the way his chest moves when he breathes, the way his hands flex at his sides like he's holding himself back.
The air between us crackles.
Then his hand is on hip, pulling me against him, and oh god his skin is so warm through the thin fabric of my blouse. My hands find his chest, fingers curling into the worn cotton of his shirt. His heartbeat thunders under my palm, or maybe that's my own pulse I'm feeling, I can't tell anymore.
"Maya," he says again, and this time it's different. Deeper. Rougher. The sound goes straight through me, settling low in my belly.
I tilt my head up and his mouth is there, hot and demanding against mine. The kiss isn't gentle or questioning, it's a claim, a brand, something that marks me as thoroughly as the petition papers in my bag. His tusks press against my cheeks, the hard ridges strangely soft against my skin.
My fingers tangle in his hair, the strands surprisingly soft between the rough pads of my fingertips. He makes a sound low in his throat, something between a growl and a groan, and suddenly I'm pressed between his body and the cold wall, the contrast making me gasp into his mouth.
His hands are everywhere, rough and calloused and so careful with me. One slides up to cradle my jaw while the other spans my waist, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin just above my hipbone. The touch sends sparks through me, lighting up nerves I didn't even know I had.
I break the kiss just enough to speak. "Your place. Now."
The words come out breathless and demanding.
His eyes darken, pupils blowing wide until there's barely any green left.
He doesn't answer with words, just scoops me up like I weigh nothing, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist. The position presses me right against the hard length of him through our clothes, and I moan.
The stairwell spins as he takes the steps two at a time, my back hitting the wall with each movement.
I can feel every muscle in his body working, the power in his thighs and arms, the way his chest expands against mine with each breath.
It's intoxicating, being this close to him, feeling the raw strength he usually keeps so carefully leashed.
His door is barely open before we're through it, kicking shut behind us with a force that rattles the pictures on the walls. The fairy lights I strung up earlier cast a soft glow around the room, catching on the planes of his face as he looks down at me.
"Tell me to stop," he says, voice rough. His hands are still on me but he's not moving, giving me space even though every line of his body is tense with want. "Tell me and I'll stop."
I don't want him to stop. I want him to keep going until neither of us can think straight. Until the only things that exist are his hands on my skin and my name in his voice and the way we fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle.
"Don't stop," I whisper instead, pulling his head down to mine. "Please don't stop."
The kiss this time is deeper, slower. His hands move with deliberate care, tracing patterns along my sides like he's memorizing me. I arch into his touch, my body already aching for more.
Clothes become obstacles. My fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel his skin against mine. He helps me, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull the shirt over his head before his mouth is back on mine, hot and demanding.
I get my first real look at his chest and it's magnificent. Broad and muscular with a light dusting of hair that narrows down to a line disappearing into his waistband. Scars crisscross his skin, some pale and old, others still angry and red. Battle marks, he once told me. Proof of survival.
My hands explore the landscape of him, tracing the ridges of muscle and valleys of scar tissue. He shudders under my touch, his own hands stilling on me like he's afraid to move. The reaction makes me bold, my fingers dipping lower to tease the waistband of his pants.
A growl rumbles through his chest. "Maya."
My name is a warning and a plea. I look up at him through my lashes, loving the way his breath comes faster, how his hands flex against my skin. "Yes?"
"You're killing me."
I grin, feeling powerful in a way I never have before. This massive orc, brought to his knees by my touch. "Good."
Then I'm kissing him again, my hands finally dipping beneath his waistband to find him hard and hot in my palm. He groans into my mouth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. The reaction sends a thrill through me, knowing I can affect him this way.
His hands find the hem of my blouse, tugging it up with a growl of frustration when the fabric catches.
I help him, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over my head before his mouth is back on mine, hot and demanding.
The cool air of the apartment hits my bare skin, raising goosebumps that have nothing to do with temperature.
His hands span my waist, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts through the lace of my bra. The touch sends sparks through me, my back arching involuntarily. He makes a sound low in his throat, something between a growl and a groan, before his mouth leaves mine to trail down my neck.
The stubble on his jaw rasps against my skin, sending shivers through me. His tusks catch on the strap of my bra, tugging it down to expose my shoulder. The cool air hits my skin but it's nothing compared to the heat of his mouth when it finds the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder.
I gasp, my fingers tightening in his hair. He makes that sound again, the vibration of it going straight through me. His hands move to my back, fumbling slightly with the clasp of my bra before it gives way, the straps sliding down my arms.
The lace falls away, leaving me bare to his gaze. I expect him to look, to take me in, but instead his mouth is on me instantly, hot and wet against my nipple. My back is arching off the wall.
His hands span my waist, holding me up as his mouth works magic on my breasts. He takes his time, lavishing attention on first one then the other, his tongue doing things that make my legs tremble where they're wrapped around his waist.
I need more. Need him closer. My hands find his pants again, pushing them down his hips along with his underwear. He helps me, kicking them off before his hands are back on me, lifting me higher against the wall.
The position presses me right against the hard length of him, nothing between us now but air and anticipation. I moan, my head falling back against the wall. He takes advantage, his mouth finding that sensitive spot on my neck again, his tusks scraping lightly against my skin.
"Please," I gasp, not even sure what I'm asking for. Just knowing I need more of him, all of him.
He growls something in Orcish, the words rough and guttural and so full of want it makes me ache. Then he's there, right there, the head of him pressing against me. I'm so ready for him it's almost embarrassing, my body welcoming him with a desperation that matches my own.
He enters me slowly, so slowly it's torture. I whimper as my nails dig into his shoulders. He's so big, stretching me in the most delicious way, filling me until I can't tell where I end and he begins.
"Okay?" he asks. His hands are on my middle, holding me steady, giving me time to adjust to him.
I nod, unable to speak, my body already moving against his instinctively. He groans, his forehead resting against mine, our breath mingling between us.
Then he starts to move.
It's slow at first, shallow thrusts that let me get used to the feel of him. But soon that changes, his movements becoming deeper, more insistent. The wall at my back keeps me steady as he takes me, his hands on my lower back guiding my movements to meet his.
The fairy lights catch on the sweat beading on his skin, making him glow like something magical. His muscles flex with each movement, the power in his body evident in every line. I've never felt so safe and so desired all at once.
His mouth finds mine again, our kiss messy and desperate. I can taste myself on his lips, feel the way his breath comes faster with each movement. His hands slide up to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks as he kisses me like I'm something precious.
The angle changes, his thrusts hitting deeper, and I groan into his mouth. He swallows the sound, his own groan vibrating against my lips. His hands move back to my waist, his fingers digging into my skin as he takes me harder, faster.
I can feel it building, that delicious tension coiling tighter with each movement. My breath comes in gasps, my body moving against his instinctively. He's right there with me, his own breath rough against my skin.
"Maya," he growls, the sound sending a thrill through me. "Come for me."
The words push me over the edge, my body tightening around him as pleasure crashes through me. He follows with a groan, his body shuddering against mine as he finds his own release.
We stay like that for long moments, our breath the only sound in the room. His forehead rests against mine, our skin slick with sweat. I can feel his heartbeat against my chest, or maybe that's my own pulse I'm hearing.
Slowly, carefully, he lowers me until my feet touch the ground. My legs tremble, my body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. His hands stay on me, holding me steady as I find my balance.
When I look up at him, his expression is one of awe. He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. "You're incredible," he says.
I grin, feeling powerful and desired and so many things I don't have words for. "Right back at you."
He kisses me then, slow and sweet, his hands cradling my face like I'm something precious. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, our breath mingling between us.
The fairy lights catch on the sweat cooling on our skin, casting everything in a soft glow. His apartment, this moment all feels magical, like we've stepped outside of time itself.
His hands slide down to lace with mine, his thumbs brushing my knuckles. The touch is so gentle, so at odds with the strength I know he possesses. It makes my heart ache in the best way.
"Stay," he says. Not a demand, but a plea.
I don't have to think about it. There's nowhere else I'd rather be. "Always."
The word hangs between us, full of promise. He kisses me again, slow and sweet, before leading me toward his bedroom. Our bedroom, maybe. If I'm brave enough to hope for that.
The sheets are cool against my skin as we climb under them, our bodies fitting together like we were made for this. His arms wrap around me, holding me close, and I realize something with a start.
This is home.
Not my apartment with its perfect quiet and carefully cultivated solitude. Not even this building with its quirky neighbors and shared spaces. But this—his arms around me, our breath syncing as we drift toward sleep, the way his heartbeat steadies mine.
I turn in his arms to face him, my hand finding his chest. His skin is warm under my palm, his heartbeat strong and sure. He looks down at me, his expression soft in the dim light.
"Maya," he says, my name a question and a promise.
I don't have words for what I'm feeling, so I kiss him instead, pouring everything into the touch. He responds instantly, his hands cradling my face as he kisses me back, slow and deep.
When we break apart, our foreheads rest together, our breath mingling between us. There's so much we need to talk about, so many uncertainties still hanging over us. But right now, in this moment, none of that matters.
There's just us. Our hearts beating together. Our breath syncing as we drift toward sleep. Our bodies fitting together like we were made for this.