Chapter One
Elara Hart swung her bag onto the chair and let out a tired sigh.
She'd just returned from her parents' house, where they had spent the whole day together — watching movies, eating tuna casseroles, and squeezing fresh oranges from the small garden out back.
It wasn't the best or fanciest birthday celebration, but it was warm, real, and full of love. That was all she needed.
Turning twenty-five didn't come with any fireworks, but she was grateful. Her parents had done their best, even when times were tough. It was better than spending the day alone, drowning in thoughts and eating chips on the couch.
After kicking off her shoes, she slipped into the bathroom, ready for a shower and some peace. As the warm water poured over her skin, she silently wished that twenty-five would be a year of new beginnings.
Meanwhile, Noah Bennett, her boyfriend of three years, quietly unlocked the apartment door with a spare key.
"Happy birthday to you…" he sang softly, balancing a small cake and a bottle of wine in his hands.
He looked around the cozy space, smiling to himself. "Where the hell is she?" he muttered, stepping further in.
Hearing the shower running, he called out, "Elara?"
She froze for a second before replying, "Noah? What the hell— you didn't tell me you were coming!"
"Well, that's why it's a surprise," he said, grinning.
"I'll be out in a bit!" she called, rinsing the last of the soap from her skin.
He settled onto the edge of her bed, setting the cake on the dresser. When she finally came out, wrapped in a towel with another around her damp hair, Noah's breath caught for a moment.
"Wow… all this for me?" she teased lightly.
"Yes, all for my beautiful birthday girl," he said, walking up to her and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
"Thank you," she murmured, setting the gifts aside. For a second, the room went quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside.
"How was it at your parents' place?" he asked, breaking the silence.
"It was nice," she said with a soft smile. "I missed them. It was simple, but it made me happy."
He nodded. "I'm glad. And, uh… I let myself in. You gave me the key, remember?"
She laughed. "Right. I forgot."
She looked absolutely beautiful, and Noah couldn't help but stare. There was something effortless about her, the way she moved, the quiet glow she carried without even trying.
He wanted to pull her close, to hold her for just a little longer, but part of him hesitated. He didn't want to rush anything or risk hurting her feelings, especially on her birthday.
They had never crossed that line before, and she had never brought it up. Noah had always assumed she wanted to take things slow, and he respected that completely. He loved her deeply, not just for how she looked, but for who she was.
To him, Elara was the kind of person you didn't just meet by chance; she felt like someone sent into his life on purpose. His angel, he often thought.
Her laughter always made him relax. Still, he couldn't ignore the way his heart raced when he looked at her. There was something different in the air tonight — a closeness, an understanding neither of them needed to explain.
For a moment, neither spoke.
"I'll wait for you outside," Noah said softly, turning toward the door.
"No…" Elara's voice stopped him. She reached out, her fingers curling gently around his hand. "Stay," she whispered, her tone careful but certain.
He turned back to her, meeting her eyes.
She dropped her towel exposing her whole body.
The air between them felt charged, a mix of surprise, emotion, and something unspoken. For a moment, neither of them moved, both caught in the weight of what that single word and action meant
"Always," he whispered.
Outside, the city lights flickered through her window as they stood there, the night holding its breath — a quiet promise of what might come next.
The shift in the room was immediate and absolute. The ordinary details of Elara's bedroom—the faded poster, the pile of books—vanished. All that existed was the heavy, thrumming presence of Noah, the slick heat of their entwined bodies, and the dizzying sensation of the unknown.
His mouth found hers again, a hungry, deep kiss that stole the air she needed for her nerves. She didn't think; she only reacted, clutching at the rigid muscles of his shoulders, the desperate pressure of her nails leaving faint trails on his skin. This wasn't the slow, comforting familiarity of their usual kisses; this was a beginning, a sudden, blinding fever.
When he moved, shifting her hips slightly, a primal anxiety spiked through her. She felt the pressure, hot and demanding, a weight against the last barrier she possessed. Elara squeezed her eyes shut, and for a terrifying, split-second, the confidence that had led her here faltered. Too much. Too new.
He spread open her legs and dipped his face into her folds licking and sucking her.
He opened her legs a little wider so he could have more access to her already throbbing clit.
Noah replenished their thirst, thrusting so deeply inside her.
The raw intensity of her gasp was a sudden, physical punch to Noah's gut, forcing the air out of him in a ragged exhale. He heard it, he felt it—the tiny, jerking movement of her body beneath his—and every primal part of him slammed to a halt. The frantic, hot tide of desire that had been driving him receded, replaced instantly by a sharp, icy spike of fear.
Did I hurt her? Was that too fast?
He went utterly rigid, bracing his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing her, his entire focus narrowing to the strip of white skin where his knuckles were locked against the lavender-scented sheets. He didn't have to ask, "Are you okay?" The question was irrelevant. Her body had told the truth, a sound of abrupt, overwhelming sensation he hadn't fully prepared for.
His gaze dropped to her face. In the dim light, he saw her features tightly drawn, a line of concentration that was almost pain, but then, the tension released. Her eyes, usually so playful, opened and met his. They were dark, wet, and held a mix of surprise and a strange, powerful acknowledgment.
Elara could only shake her head, a small, jerky motion against the pillow. It wasn't pain anymore. It was a stunning, powerful connection, a frantic rush of relief and raw intimacy. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, demanding the complete, profound weight of him.
A whimper finally escaped her, not of distress, but of desperate need, a sound she had never known she possessed. She held on, riding the unfamiliar rhythm that had begun, fast, hot, and utterly consuming, right there in the sa
nctity of her small, lavender-scented bedroom. Every movement was a tremor, a powerful reminder that she was no longer just herself, but profoundly, physically bound to him.