I’d thought about this for weeks. Late nights at the station when I should have been sleeping. Cold showers didn't help. I had lain awake in my apartment, staring at the ceiling, my mind drifting to the curve of her neck, the way her shirts sometimes pulled across her chest when she reached for something, the glimpse of her stomach I'd caught once when she stretched.
But standing here, watching her in the soft lamplight, I realized I'd been a fool to think I could prepare myself for this.
She was stunning. Soft where she should be soft, curved in ways that made my hands ache to map every inch. The lamp cast warm shadows across her skin, and I could see the slight swell of her hips, the dip of her waist, the rise of her breasts above plain cotton that was somehow sexier than any lace I'd ever seen.
This was real. She was real. And she was looking at me like she was braced for disappointment.
I didn't give her judgment.
I gave her my mouth on her collarbone. My hands spanned her ribcage. Every ounce of reverence I'd been saving for someone who deserved it.
"Beautiful," I said against her skin. "You're so beautiful."
"Shane—"
I found the clasp of her bra. Paused. "Okay?"
"Yes."
The fabric fell away.
She was shaking. I pulled back and met her eyes.
"Still okay?"
"Yes." She reached for my shirt, finished the buttons, and pushed it off my shoulders. "Just... overwhelmed."
"Good overwhelmed?"
Her hands flattened on my chest. I felt her touch like fire.
"The best overwhelmed."
We found the bed somehow. Fell into it together, a tangle of limbs and want and years of loneliness burning away between us. I took my time. Learned her. The sounds she made when I kissed certain places. The way her back arched when my hand traveled down her stomach. The way she whispered my name like a prayer when I finally touched her where she needed me.
"Look at me," I said.
She did. Her eyes were wet, overwhelmed, like she'd said. Like feeling this much after feeling nothing for so long was too big for her body to contain.
I understood. I felt it too.
I kissed her softly. Then again, deeper, as my body found hers.
She gasped. I stilled.
"Okay?"
"Don't stop." Her legs wrapped around me. "Please don't stop."
I didn't.
We moved together in the dark, finding a rhythm that felt less like two people learning each other and more like coming home. She clung to me, and I held her, and somewhere in the middle of it, I felt something crack open in my chest. The wall I'd built after the calendar, after the fame, after years of being looked at and never seen, crumbled.
Because Maya saw me.
And I wasn't going to let her go.
When we finally fell apart, both of us breathing hard, I pulled her against my chest and pressed my lips to her hair.
