1. Maya
MAYA
He follows me inside, and I feel a jolt of realization at just how tiny this place is. Inviting him up here, well, it’s hardly a penthouse freaking apartment, is it?
My studio is the only place I can afford, at least without having to move in with roommates, and with my late-night schedule it’s easier for me to just keep my head down and focus on my own world.
“Sorry it’s so small,” I blurt out, as I fuss around trying to clean up some of the mess, cramming my shit into drawers and stuffing some errant clothes under my bed, which takes up most of the living room. “Uh... Just sit down on the couch, I’ll come back with some bandages...”
He does as he’s told without a word, surveying the place with those piercing blue eyes, as if he can see more than just what is on the surface. I busy myself in the bathroom, digging out a clean washcloth and some bandages so I can tidy him up.
I look at myself in the mirror, and I can see angry red fingerprints on my shoulder where the other man grabbed at me.
I have no doubt it’ll turn into bruises that I’ll have to find a decent explanation for tomorrow.
But, for right now, at least, all I care about is the man sitting in my living room.
The man who might very well have saved my life.
I step out of the bathroom once more, and he glances up at me. The lights in here are low, the energy-saving bulbs dim, but I can better make out his features here inside my place.
He looks quite a bit older than me, but not in an off-putting way.
His features are written with creases, but they seem to speak to the depth of life he has lived rather than how ancient he has become.
His hair is silver, glistening in the light, and those sharp blue eyes seem to slice straight through me.
I swallow hard, moving over to him and crouching down beside him, drawing his hand on to his knee so that I can tend to the harm he did to it.
“Does it hurt?” I ask him, and he shakes his head as I carefully begin to clean his skin.
It feels almost reverent, tending to him like this, and a flush rises to my cheeks as I carefully wipe the blood away from him. I can feel him watching me with every motion, and I let some of my hair fall into my face, the curtain of blonde as a break from his intense gaze.
Once I have cleaned up most of the blood, I reach for the bandages, tearing off a few long strips before I wrap them around his hand. He doesn’t register any pain at all as I take care of him, though it’s hard not to imagine that he’s feeling it.
“Did you know him?” I ask, trying to break the silence between us any way I can. “The man who attacked me, I mean.”
He shakes his head. “Did you?” He turns the question back around on me, as I tighten the bandages around him.
“Uh, no,” I reply. “I mean, I don’t think so. I…”
I stop myself in my tracks. This man doesn’t want to hear about my history, I’m sure of it. He was just doing the right thing when he saw a girl in trouble, and the best I can do is keep in mind the fact that he doesn’t owe me a damn thing.
His voice cuts through my thoughts. “You deal with that a lot?”
“Hmm?”
“Men following you like that.”
“Oh, God, no,” I reply, shaking my head, as I adjust the bandages to make sure they’re not going to slip off the first chance they get. “I mean—not before... It’s not like it’s something I want to get used to, let’s just say that.”
He smirks slightly, the corner of his lip tugging upward. “Guess we’ve all got our secrets.”
“Guess so.”
I pause there for a moment, his hand still in mine, and I’m suddenly aware of how close we are to each other.
How easy it would be, if I wanted to, to just lean in and kiss him.
Which would be ridiculous, given what just happened, given that I’m still terrified even as I sit before him right now, and yet...
And yet, I can’t shake the desire for it.
I’m still kneeling down at his side, and his eyes don’t move from me.
“Thank you,” I whisper, though it does not feel like nearly enough to express the enormity of what he’s done for me. I let go of his hand finally, but he draws my palm between his, his strong touch softening the hard edges within me.
“I only did what anyone would have,” he replies, his voice slightly gruff.
I shake my head slowly. This man clearly doesn’t know just how dark the world can get, if he thinks that every man would have made the choice that he did.
“No, you didn’t,” I murmur, as I shift a little closer to him, moving one hand on top of his. “You... You saved me. I don’t know if I can ever thank you enough for that.”
But it’s more than just the urge to thank him that rises in me. It’s the urge to touch him, to feel the heat of his body.
And I’m willing to do anything in my power to have him like that.
Before I can stop myself, I lean forward, and plant a kiss on his lips. Just a brief one, nothing too intense—as if out of simple gratitude.
But as I pull away, he stares at me for a moment, and I can feel his desire in the air between us.
Before I can move again, he leans in and kisses me. An this time, it’s much more than gratitude…
It’s pure lust.