Chapter 7
Geoff
I woke to pale morning light filtering through the curtains and the unfamiliar weight of another body in my bed.
For a moment, I lay still, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid that any shift would reveal this was just an elaborate dream. That I’d open my eyes and find myself alone like every other morning for the past decade.
But then Maya sighed in her sleep, burrowing closer into my side, and the reality of it hit me like an avalanche.
She was here. In my bed. Naked.
We made love for the first time last night. Not once, but multiple times. She’d looked at me like I was something wonderful, touched me like she couldn’t get enough, said my name in ways that would echo in my memory forever.
She loved me.
Maya, the brilliant, funny, kind Maya who I’d been pining after for over a year, loved me back.
I was completely, utterly screwed in the best possible way.
She shifted again, and I felt every point of contact between us. Her head rested on my chest, her hand splayed over my heart, one leg thrown over mine. She fit against me perfectly despite our size difference, like we’d been designed to slot together exactly this way.
My Yeti instincts were going haywire. Every primal part of my brain was screaming mine.
Mate. Keep. Protect in an endless loop. I’d expected that.
In fact, I had been bracing for it since the moment she’d kissed me last night.
What I hadn’t expected was how right it would feel.
How natural, as if some fundamental piece of myself had been missing and had finally clicked into place.
I was swimming in dangerous territory. We’d known each other in person for such a short time, but so help me, I was already thinking about forever.
About having her things mixed with mine in the bathroom.
Her scent permanently embedded in my sheets.
I allowed myself to picture a future where I woke up like this every morning with Maya in my arms, her soft body cradled against mine.
“You’re thinking too loud,” she mumbled against my chest.
I looked down to find her eyes still closed, but a small smile played on her lips.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I’m not awake. This is sleep-talking.” She nuzzled closer, and my arms tightened around her automatically. “What time is it?”
I glanced out the window. I based my guess on the quality of light, and the position of the shadows. “Around eight, I think.”
“Too early. Go back to sleep.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Why not?”
What I wanted to say was: Because you’re in my bed and every instinct I have is telling me to keep you here forever. Because I can smell you on my skin, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever experienced. Because I’m terrified once we step out of this room, everything we shared is going to disappear.
“Just wired, I guess,” I said instead.
Maya finally opened her eyes, tilting her head back to look at me. Her hair was a disaster, her lips swollen from kissing, and she had pillow creases on her cheek. None of that mattered. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
“No regrets?” she asked softly, echoing my question from last night.
“Maya, I just spent the night with the woman I love. The only regret I have is that we didn’t do this sooner.”
Her smile was radiant. “Good answer.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Still a good answer.” She stretched, and winced. “Ow. Okay, I may have overdone it slightly.”
Concern immediately flooded through me. “Your bruises? Did I hurt you? I tried to be careful.”
“Geoff.” She pressed a finger to my lips. “You were perfect. Amazing. Mind-blowing. My bruises are from the car crash, remember? And they’re fine. I’m just a little sore from activities.”
“Good sore or bad sore?”
“Very good sore.” Her eyes were dancing with mischief. “The kind of sore that makes me want to do it again.”
My breath caught. “You’re going to kill me.”
“What a way to go though.”
I groaned, pulling her closer. “You’re dangerous.”
“Says the eight-foot Yeti who can probably bench press my car.”
“Could bench press your car. Did bench press part of a boulder once when it fell on a hiker’s leg.”
“That’s so hot.”
“It was a medical emergency.”
“Still hot.”
I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in years, and it was all thanks to Maya’s presence. I loved the way she looked at me, like I was simultaneously the most impressive and most ridiculous thing she'd ever encountered. Having her here with me was everything I’d dreamed it would be, and better.
“We should probably get up,” I said, even though I had zero desire to move. “You need breakfast. And I should check the road conditions, see if the plows have made it up yet.”
“Or,” Maya said, walking her fingers up my chest, “we could stay in bed a little longer. Remember what you promised me.”
“I thought you were sore.”
“I am. But there are other things we could do.” Her hand drifted lower, and I caught it before she could destroy what little self-control I had left.
“Maya, you’re killing me.”
“That’s the idea.”
“You need to eat.”
“I can eat.”
I caught her gaze. “Don’t look at me like that. I see the hunger in your eyes, but I didn’t mean eat me. I mean real food. I’m not going to be responsible for you collapsing from exhaustion and hunger.”
She pouted and I couldn’t help but smile because she looked adorable. “Fine,” she huffed. “But after breakfast?”
“After breakfast,” I promised, sealing it with a kiss that threatened to derail my noble intentions entirely.
We eventually made it out of bed, though it took longer than it should have.
Maya had to borrow more of my clothes, hers were scattered on the floor, the jeans halfway in the hallway, a victim of last night’s enthusiasm.
She emerged from the bathroom wearing my flannel shirt like a dress, the sleeves rolled up about six times, and I had to grip the kitchen counter to keep myself from dragging her right back to bed.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she said, but she was smiling.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to eat me for breakfast.”
“I’m not.” I paused. “Okay, I am, but can you blame me? You’re gorgeous and wearing my clothes again. It does things to me.”
“Good things, I hope.”
“Very good things.”
She settled onto a barstool at the kitchen island, tucking her legs up under her. “So what’s for breakfast? More of your amazing pancakes?”
“How’s about an omelet? Assuming you’re not allergic to anything. I should have asked that before.”
“I’m not. And omelets sound perfect.” She watched me pull ingredients from the fridge. “Can I help?”
“Keep me company. That’s enough help.”
“I could chop vegetables or something. I’m not completely useless in a kitchen.”
“Maya, you’re recovering from a car crash and,” I blushed, “last night’s activities. Let me take care of you.”
Something soft crossed her face. “You like doing that, don’t you? Taking care of people.”
“No. Not people. You. I like taking care of you.” I started dicing peppers with perhaps more focus than necessary. “Is that weird?”
“No. It’s sweet. Just different from what I’m used to.” She was quiet for a moment. “My ex used to complain that I was too independent. Said it made him feel useless.”
My jaw tightened. “Your ex was an idiot.”
“We’ve already established this.”
“I’m just reiterating for the record.” I looked up at her.
“For what it’s worth, I love that you’re independent.
You don’t need someone to take care of you.
You’re capable of taking care of yourself.
But you’re letting me do it anyway, and that’s,” I stopped and searched for the right words.
“That’s a gift. You’re trusting me with your vulnerability. That means everything.”
Maya's eyes were suspiciously bright. “Okay, you need to stop saying romantic things while cooking. You’re not even chopping an onion, so I can’t blame it on that. It’s not fair.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“Because it’s true! You’re supposed to be one or the other.”
“One or the other what?” I asked.
“Practical or romantically eloquent. You can’t be both.”
“Watch me. I was raised with sisters. They’d have my hide if I didn’t treat my female right.” I grinned and pointed to the knife. “Remember that ceremonial rug? They’d turn me into one.”
She laughed, wiping at her eyes. “I’m in so much trouble.”
“Good trouble?”
“The best trouble.”
I finished the omelets and plated them with toast and fresh fruit, the last of what I’d bought before the storm hit. We’d need to figure out groceries soon. The roads would probably be clear by tomorrow, maybe the next day at the latest.
The thought made my chest tighten. Once the roads were clear, Maya would leave. She’d go to her apartment in town, start her new job, and begin her new life. And I’d come back here to my cabin, my isolation, my carefully controlled solitude.
Except it wouldn’t be solitude anymore. It would just be lonely.
“You’re thinking too loud again,” Maya said around a bite of omelet. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. This is perfect.”
“Geoff.”
I sighed, setting down my fork. “The roads will be clear soon. You’ll need to get to your apartment, settle in. I know the landlord’s been understanding but I can’t keep you here forever.”
“Would that be so bad? Me staying here forever?”
My heart stopped. “What?”
“I’m not saying I should move in, not now at least. That would be insane. But,” she stopped and took a bite of her breakfast. As she chewed she set her fork down and met my eyes. “I don’t want this to end when I leave. I don’t want to go back to being voices through a headset.”
“Maya, I live twenty minutes outside of town on a mountain. You’re starting a new job, making a new life for yourself.”
“Twenty minutes isn’t that far. People commute farther than that.”
“I’m not asking you to commute to see me.”