SIENNA.

“Stay still,” Noah murmured against the inside of my thigh, voice rough with sleep and something softer I still wasn’t ready to name. “I’m not finished looking at you.”

It was barely seven in the morning. The house was quiet. His dad had left early for a job site; Mom was still asleep down the hall. We were in my bed this time, sheets kicked to the foot, my legs spread open under the gray morning light while he traced every mark he’d left on me with slow, deliberate fingers.

Real intimacy had crept in like a second pulse.

He no longer fucked me like he was collecting payment....