Chapter 10 #2
The honest answer would get us both in trouble.
The honest answer is that I'm thinking about how the stress lines around her eyes have smoothed out as she's gotten more absorbed in her work.
How beautiful she looks in the soft glow of the laptop screen, hair escaping from her messy bun in ways that make my fingers itch to touch those strands.
How much I want to kiss her.
"I'm thinking," I say carefully, "that you're in your element when you're creating something. It's good to see."
"Yeah?" She sets her coffee aside, and somehow that small movement brings her even closer. "It feels good. Like maybe I can start to rebuild something here."
"You can." The words come out quieter than I intended, more intimate. "You can build anything you want."
Her gaze drops to my mouth for just a second before flicking back up, and I see the moment awareness shifts between us. The air in the small room seems to thicken, charged with possibility and the weight of everything we've been dancing around.
"Lucas." My name is barely a whisper on her lips.
"Yeah?"
"I think I've been building the wrong thing."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I've been so focused on creating connections for other people that I forgot about the one happening right in front of me." Her hand comes up to rest on my chest, right over my heart, and I wonder if she can feel how fast it's beating.
The laptop slides forgotten to the side as she shifts closer, her eyes locked on mine. "I think I've been overthinking this."
"Maya." My voice comes out strained. "You don't have to—"
"I want to." Her other hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "Stop trying to protect me from making my own choices."
"I'm not—"
"You are. You've been careful with me all night. Sitting on the edge of the bed instead of next to me. Keeping distance when all I want is for you to be closer." Her voice drops to barely above a breath. "I'm tired of distance, Lucas. I'm tired of being careful."
She's right. I have been careful, trying to be respectful, trying not to take advantage of her emotional state. But the way she's looking at me now—like I'm something she wants instead of something she's afraid of—is making it impossible to remember why distance seemed like a good idea.
"What do you want?" I ask, my hands coming up to frame her face.
"This," she whispers, leaning closer. "You. Now."
And then she's kissing me.
Her lips are soft and warm and taste like coffee and temptation.
For a moment, I'm too stunned to respond.
After years of wanting this, dreaming about this, the reality feels almost surreal.
But then Maya makes a small sound against my mouth, something between a sigh and a plea, and my brain finally catches up with what's happening.
I kiss her back.
My hands tangle in her hair, finally giving in to the urge I've been fighting all night, and the silky strands slip between my fingers like water. She responds by pressing closer, her body warm and soft against mine, and I can feel her heart racing where her chest meets mine.
"God," she breathes against my lips, "I've wanted to do that for so long."
"How long?" The question slips out between kisses, because I need to know, need to understand if this has been building for her the way it has for me.
"Junior year," she admits, her hands sliding up to frame my face. "Chemistry class. You were explaining molecular bonds and all I could think about was kissing you."
The confession sends desire flooding through me, the knowledge that she'd been thinking about this as long as I had.
She kisses me again before I can respond, deeper this time, with a hunger that matches my own. Her tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for her, tasting her.
We're lying back against the pillows now, though I don't remember moving, her body half-draped over mine. The laptop has been pushed completely aside, forgotten in favor of more important things. Like the way she fits against me, like she was made for me.
Her sweater has ridden up slightly, and when my hands find the bare skin of her back, she arches into the touch with a sound that makes my pulse stutter.
"Lucas." My name on her lips—breathless and wanting.
I want to give her everything she's asking for.
Want to lose myself in the taste and feel of her, want to show her exactly how long I've been waiting for this moment.
But even through the haze of desire, I can hear Harper moving around in the next room, can remember where we are and why Maya's here in the first place.
She deserves better than a stolen moment in someone else's guest room while she's running scared from a stalker.
She deserves everything.
"Maya," I say softly, catching her hands as they start to slide under my shirt. "Wait."
Her eyes open, confused and flushed. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong." I press a gentle kiss to her cheek, trying to ignore the way my body is protesting this decision. "Everything's perfect. That's the problem."
"I don't understand."
"I know." I sit up, pulling her with me, and try to find words for feelings that are too big and complicated for midnight confessions. "That's why we need to stop."
Maya's face goes through a series of emotions—confusion, hurt, embarrassment—and I hate that I'm the cause of any of them. But I can't let her think this is about not wanting her.
"I can't," I say, reaching for her hands before she can pull away completely. "Not like this. Not until you know something."
"Know what?" Her voice is small, uncertain, and it breaks something in my chest.
"That I'm all in." The words come out rough, honest. "Maya, this isn't just attraction for me. This isn't just wanting to kiss you because you're beautiful and brilliant and sitting here with me at midnight."
She blinks, like she's trying to process what I'm saying.
"I've been half in love with you since we were seventeen," I continue, because now that I've started, I can't stop. "And completely in love with you since you walked back into my bar. So when we do this—" I gesture between us, "—when we cross this line, you need to know it means everything to me."
Her lips part in surprise. "Lucas—"
"I won't be your rebound, Maya. I won't be the safe choice while you're figuring out what you want." My thumb traces across her knuckles. "I know you're scared. I know your life is complicated right now. But I need you to be sure. Because once we do this, I'm not letting go."
The silence stretches, heavy with the weight of everything I've just admitted. Maya stares at me with wide eyes.
"You’re in love with me," she says finally, like she's testing the words.
"Yeah. I’m in love with you."
"And you're stopping because you’re in love with me."
"I'm stopping because when we make love, and we will, I want you to know exactly what it means.
" I lean forward, pressing my forehead against hers.
"I want you to choose me not because you're scared or lonely or running from something else.
I want you to choose me because you can't imagine being anywhere else. "
Maya's eyes flutter closed, and when she opens them again, they're bright with unshed tears.
"When we do this," she whispers, echoing my words.
"When," I confirm. "Not if. When."
She nods, understanding passing between us like a promise.
"When we do this," she says again, stronger this time, "you need to know it means everything to me too."