Her whisper was barely more than breath, landing softly on his wrist like a trembling feather.
Noah closed his eyes.
His breath caught.
His throat moved, slow and heavy, as if swallowing something unspeakable.
Quietly, he drew his hand back and shook his head.
"No. Not like this."
Her gaze faltered, but he didn't stop.
"This isn't real, Celeste. It's just the drug talking. This feeling—it'll pass. And...I don't want to touch you this way. Especially not like this..."
His voice was calm but firm, layered with something deeply tender.
"Noah… right now… I have no one else."
Her voice trembled, caught between a plea and a confession.
She reached out, cupping his cheek gently.
"I know it's the drug. But even so, right now, all I want is you."
And in that moment, something inside him broke.
He knew it wasn't all her.
He knew.
But still, the way she reached only for him—it undid him.
As if sensing it, she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.
When her lips met his, he froze, as if time had stilled.
Her mouth was fever-warm, her breath shaky.
Her fingers curled around the back of his neck like a soft plea.
At first, the kiss was hesitant.
But soon, it deepened—her breath mingling with his, her body arching to feel more.
Hesitation.
Longing.
Responsibility.
And a loneliness so raw, he couldn't turn away.
He ran his fingers slowly through her hair.
Her shoulders gave a small shiver beneath his touch.
"You'll regret this…" he murmured.
"I won't," she breathed.
"…Haa…"
"I need you. Please… just hold me."
His eyes flickered.
He felt like a man walking the edge of something he couldn't name, about to fall, and yet—he kissed her again.
This time, without fear.
His lips pressed to hers, deepening with hunger.
When their tongues touched, she gasped and clutched his shirt.
He shrugged off his jacket and let it fall.
As he leaned over her, his weight settled gently on her.
There was no space left between them.
His hand slid down her waist, then lower—lifting her dress with deliberate care.
When his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh, Celeste let out a soft, startled breath.
He slipped off her underwear, slowly, reverently.
"Noah…"
She called his name, and he looked down—his eyes dark with restraint and something more tender still.
"I know the drug's making you feel everything more…but even so—"
He leaned down, brushing his tongue along her neck.
"I still want you,"
he whispered.
"So badly it hurts."
He lifted her leg and guided it around his waist.
The heat between them was impossible to ignore.
Their mouths found each other again, this time fiercer, deeper.
Her body arched under him as she pulled him closer still.
And then, at last—he entered her.
His first movements were slow, almost reverent.
As if confirming she was truly there, with him, like this.
She threw her head back, trembling as she wrapped herself around him, welcoming him in fully.
His breath fanned hot across her neck, and her hands dragged lightly down his back, leaving streaks of sensation in their wake.
Soon, his rhythm deepened.
The bed creaked softly beneath them.
Their breaths, their moans—it all blended into something urgent, beautiful, and real.
He never looked away.
Even as he moved within her again and again—his gaze stayed on hers.
Their pace quickened.
The sound of their bodies, the sharp gasps, the way her face twisted in pleasure—
She clung to him tightly, her voice raw with need.
"Haa...I...can't...."
He didn't reply. Just kissed her again, and moved faster.
"I'm close,"
he groaned.
She nodded, breathless, her body desperate for his.
And finally—he let go—spilling into her, thick and burning.
With everything he had.
She arched against him, a cry escaping her lips like the breaking of a wave.
Moments drifted like smoke in the hush between them.
Celeste opened her eyes slowly, waking from a dreamlike sleep.
She stayed still for a moment, then touched her forehead.
Glancing at the clock by the bed—just past ten.
"Noah…"
Her voice faded before she could finish.
Noah sat up beside her, pulling the blanket gently over her shoulders.
"Don't think,"
he said quietly.
"Don't feel guilty."
His voice was low, firm, warm.
"Remember what I said. I'll stand between you and the storm—whether you ask me to or not."
He reached out and held her hand gently.
"Just use me. No questions. If you need me, that's enough."
She looked into his eyes, then slowly closed her own and nodded.
It was a small, quiet trust—born from chaos.
Noah stood and picked up his phone.
He called Steve.
"Hi, Would you mind bringing the car around to the back of the Rosa Hotel in about ten minutes? Please keep it low-key."
He returned to her side, sitting again by her pillow.
Like someone ready to follow her anywhere.