The city hasn’t stirred yet.
The world feels like it’s holding its breath.
And Elijah is here.
His arm is slung across my waist, his chest rising and falling against my back, the heat of him warming every inch of me. I can feel the roughness of his stubble where it brushes the curve of my shoulder, the weight of his thigh tangled between mine.
He’s heavy and solid and safe in a way I never knew I needed.
I lie still for a long time, just listening to the rhythm of his breathing. Letting myself be held.
Last night still feels unreal.
The way he touched me was like I was art. The way he looked at me like I was something special… someone special. The way he didn’t just want me—he saw me.
No one’s ever done that before. Not like that.
I trace my fingers gently over his forearm, the inked lines of his tattoos still a little intimidating. They don’t match who he is when he’s like this—soft, asleep, unknowingly vulnerable. But maybe they do. Maybe his body, like mine, is full of stories that people never bother to ask about.
He shifts behind me, his nose brushing my neck.
“Mmm… you’re awake,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep, low and warm like honey.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whisper.
“You didn’t,” he says, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “You just exist too loud.”
I stiffen slightly, just enough for him to notice.
He stills behind me. “Hey,” he says softly, brushing his thumb along my hip. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”
I hesitate. “It’s just…” I swallow. “Sometimes I worry I’m too much. I talk too fast, feel too hard, laugh too loud. Maybe I love too loudly, too. And when you said that—”
“That you exist too loud?” he says, gently cutting in. “Baby, that wasn’t a complaint.”
I stay quiet.
He nudges his nose against the curve of my neck. “I meant it the way people say the sun rises too bright. Or a storm rolls in too bold. You are, and the world can’t help but feel it.”
His voice is still thick with sleep, but now there's something steadier in it—like truth anchoring us both.
“I didn’t fall for silence,” he murmurs. “I fell for the way you take up space without even trying, for how you light up a room with just being there. I fell for your loud heart.”
And just like that, something inside me unclenches.
“Loud isn’t exactly what people like about me.”
“Well,” he says, tightening his hold around me slightly, “they’ve clearly never had the pleasure of hearing you screaming my name under my hands, and mouth.” – He says teasingly
I bury my face in the pillow, groaning. “God, don’t say stuff like that first thing in the morning.”
“Why not? It’s true,” he says, pulling me closer. “You think I’m going to pretend last night didn’t happen? That I didn’t spend half the night enjoying every inch of this sexy as fuck body of yours, pleasuring you, claiming you? Memorizing the way you look at me like you still don’t understand how perfect you are?”
My smile fades just a little. “I don’t understand it.”
He doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he rolls me gently onto my back and leans over me, propped on one elbow. His other hand finds mine, lacing our fingers together.
“Then I’ll show you,” he says. “Every day. Until it’s the first thing you think and believe when you wake up.”
