Chapter 14: Lazy Morning, Loud Butt Dial
Sunlight bled through the windows like honey poured slow from a jar. It spread across the floor, climbed the black sheets, found her face.
Nova woke with her cheek pressed to Isaiah's chest. Her body was a map of soreness. Thighs aching. Core tight. The kind of deep, bone-level exhaustion that came from being thoroughly fucked and thoroughly loved.
She didn't move. Didn't want to.
His heartbeat was a steady drum beneath her ear. His breathing slow and even. One arm was wrapped around her waist, heavy and possessive. The other was thrown above his head, fingers curled into the pillow.
She lifted her head. Just enough.
He looked different in sleep. Younger. Softer. The tension that lived in his jaw—that constant clench like he was biting back words or violence—was gone. His face was relaxed. Peaceful. Almost innocent.
Almost.
She traced the ink across his chest. A snake coiled around his left pectoral. A cross on his right. Words in script she couldn't read curving along his ribs. She followed the lines with her fingertip. Slow. Careful.
He stirred.
His eyes cracked open. Dark. Heavy with sleep. He blinked once. Twice. Focused on her face.
"Morning," she whispered.
He didn't answer. Just gripped her hips. Pulled her up. Onto him.
She straddled his waist. His cock was already hard. Pressing against her. She was still wet from last night. Still open.
He positioned himself. Didn't say a word. Just guided her down.
She sank onto him. Slow. Inch by inch. Her body stretched around him. Still sensitive. Still raw. She gasped.
He filled her completely. Bottomed out. Held her there.
"Fuck," she breathed.
His hands found her ass. Squeezed. He didn't thrust. Just rocked. Lazy circles. Grinding into her.
She braced her hands on his chest. Looked down at him.
His eyes were open. Watching her. Dark and deep.
She moved. Slow. Matching his rhythm. Her hips rolling. Grinding down on him. Every stroke sent aftershocks through her. Little jolts of pleasure-pain that made her breath catch.
"You okay?" he asked. Voice rough.
"Yeah."
"Still sore?"
"Yes."
"We can stop."
"Don't you dare."
He smirked. Rocked deeper.
She leaned forward. Pressed her forehead to his. Her breath mingled with his. Her hair fell around them like a curtain.
He kissed her. Soft. Lazy. Tongue sliding against hers.
She ground harder. Faster. Chasing something.
"Isaiah—"
"I know."
He grabbed her hips. Guided her. Helped her find the angle.
She gasped. There. Right there.
He held her steady. Let her ride him. Let her take what she needed.
The wave built slow. Rolling. Starting deep in her belly. Spreading outward.
"Fuck—"
"Let go."
"I'm—"
"Let go, Nova."
She came. Slow. Rolling. A wave that pulled her under.
She gasped against his neck. Her whole body shuddered. Clenched around him.
He followed. Low groan. Hands splayed across her ass. Pulled her down hard. Spilled inside her.
They stayed there. Tangled. Breathing.
Her forehead on his chest. His hand in her hair.
She could feel his heartbeat. Faster now. Matching hers.
She didn't want to move.
Neither did he.
---
The phone buzzed.
Nova ignored it. Kept her eyes closed. Kept her body pressed to his.
It buzzed again.
"Answer it," he said.
"No."
"It's probably important."
"It's probably nothing."
Another buzz. Then another. Then a pause. Then a fifth.
She groaned. Lifted her head.
"Fine."
She reached for the nightstand. Grabbed her phone. Mei's name on the screen.
She swiped. "Hello?"
What she heard was not a greeting.
It was a wall of sound.
Rhythmic. Wet. Unmistakable.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Breathless moaning. High-pitched. Desperate.
And then—
"MARCUS, FUCK, RIGHT THERE—"
Nova's eyes went wide.
She looked at Isaiah. His eyebrows lifted.
She put it on speaker.
"—DON'T STOP, DON'T YOU FUCKING STOP—"
Marcus's voice. Low. Growling.
"That's it. Good girl. Take it."
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Mei again. Screaming.
"OH GOD—"
Nova's mouth fell open. Then she burst out laughing.
Isaiah's face split into a grin. Rare. Genuine. Almost boyish.
"Are they—" he started.
"Yep."
"On the phone?"
"Yep."
They listened for another ten seconds. Marcus groaning. Mei crying out. The bed creaking like it was about to give up.
Nova hung up.
She collapsed onto Isaiah's chest. Cackling. Her whole body shaking.
"We are absolutely teasing them about this," she said.
He laughed. Deep. Real.
"Marcus is never gonna live this down."
"Neither is she."
They lay there. Laughing. Gasping for air.
Nova wiped tears from her eyes.
"That was the best thing I've ever heard."
"Better than my mixtape?"
She snorted. "Don't push it."
He rolled. Pinned her. Wrists above her head.
His face was inches from hers.
"I can go for round two."
"Isaiah—"
"And make you scream louder than Mei."
Her breath caught.
"You think you can?"
"I know I can."
He kissed her. Hard. Hungry.
Then he fucked her.
Slow at first. Deep. Every stroke deliberate. Hitting something that made her gasp.
"You gonna scream for me?"
"Fuck you."
He thrust harder.
"That's not a scream."
She bit her lip. Tried to stay quiet. Tried to hold it in.
He pulled out. All the way. Left her empty.
"No—"
"No?"
She glared at him. "Isaiah."
"Say it."
"Say what?"
"Say you want me to fuck you."
"You're an asshole."
"I know."
He waited. Cock resting against her thigh. Hard. Wet. Close.
She wanted to smack him.
She wanted him inside her.
"I want you to fuck me."
"Good."
He pushed back in. Slow. Until he bottomed out.
She moaned.
"Louder."
He pulled out. Thrust in. Hard.
"Fuck!"
"Louder."
He fucked her. Deep. Rough. Every stroke slamming into her. Making her whole body shake.
She screamed. Not words. Just sound. Pure. Raw.
"Isaiah—"
"Yeah?"
"Fuck—"
"That's it."
He went faster. Harder. The bed slamming against the wall. Frankly, she was surprised the headboard hadn't gone through it.
"Come for me."
"I can't—"
"You can."
"I—"
He reached between them. Found her clit. Thumb pressed down. Circles.
"Come."
She came. Screaming. Clenching. Body convulsing around him.
He didn't stop. Kept fucking her. Through the orgasm. Into the next one.
"Again."
"I can't—"
"You can."
She did. Harder. Loud.
He fucked her through it. Then again.
By the third, her legs were shaking. Her voice was hoarse. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
"Please—"
"Please what?"
"I can't—"
"One more."
"Isaiah—"
"One more and I'll stop."
He fucked her. Slow now. Deep.
"Give me one more."
She did.
It was a thunderstorm. A lightning strike. A full-body detonation.
She screamed his name. Over and over. Until her voice gave out.
He followed. Groaned. Poured into her.
Collapsed.
Neither of them moved. Neither of them could.
Finally, he pulled out. Rolled onto his back. Pulled her against his chest.
She was limp. Spent. Couldn't feel her legs.
He kissed her forehead.
"Good morning."
She laughed. Weak. Hoarse.
"Fuck you."
"That's not a good morning."
"Good morning, fuck you."
He smirked. Held her tighter.
---
They stayed in bed for another hour. Dozing. Talking. His fingers tracing patterns on her back.
"What happened last night?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
"With your people. Before you came to get me."
He didn't answer. Just kept tracing.
"Isaiah."
"It's nothing."
"Don't lie."
"I'm not lying. It's handled."
She lifted her head. Looked at him.
"What's handled?"
He stared at the ceiling. Jaw tight.
"Someone was talking. To the wrong people."
"What does that mean?"
"It means someone in my circle was feeding information to a rival crew. About my business. My drops. My people."
Her stomach tightened.
"And?"
"And I handled it."
"Isaiah—"
"It's done. It's not your problem."
She sat up. Pulled the sheet around her.
"It's my problem if it affects you."
He looked at her. Something hard in his eyes.
"Go back to sleep."
"No."
"Nova."
"No, I'm not going to just—"
He sat up. Grabbed her face. Gentle. Firm.
"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. Okay?"
She stared at him.
"That's not what I asked."
"I know."
"Answer the question."
He sighed. Dropped his hands.
"Marco. He's been with me for three years. He was talking to the Reapers. Selling info. About my supply. My routes."
Her breath caught.
"What did you do?"
"What I had to."
"Is he—"
"He's alive. But he's not family anymore."
She didn't know what to say. So she said nothing.
He reached for her. Pulled her back down. Against his chest.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?"
"You shouldn't have to hear this."
"You should have told me."
"I know."
She lay quiet.
Then: "Did you hurt him?"
"No."
She looked up. Surprised.
"No?"
"I let him go. Told him if I ever saw him again, I wouldn't be so generous."
"That's... surprisingly restrained."
"Elena talked me down."
"Elena?"
"She's got a good head. Reminded me that bodies bring heat. And heat is bad for business."
She traced the snake on his chest.
"Do you trust her?"
"With my life."
"And Marcus?"
His jaw tightened.
"Yeah."
"Does he know?"
"About what?"
"What happened at dinner. That I call you Isaiah. That you're—"
"Everyone knows."
"And he's okay with it?"
"He doesn't have a choice."
"Isaiah."
He sighed.
"Marcus is loyal. He's been with me since the beginning. But he's... traditional. He doesn't get soft over people."
"And you're soft over me?"
He didn't answer.
She lifted her head. Looked at him.
"Isaiah."
"What?"
"Are you soft over me?"
He stared at her. Long. Hard.
"I'm not soft over anyone."
She waited.
He looked away.
"But I'm not letting you go."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
She leaned up. Kissed his jaw.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
He pulled her closer.
They lay there. Sunlight climbing higher. City waking up below. The world spinning on.
---
Later, they showered together.
He pressed her against the tile. Fucked her slow. Watched her face in the mirror. Her hands on the glass. Her breath fogging the reflection.
Then she got dressed. His shirt. Her jeans. Hair wet. Smelling like him.
They ate breakfast in the kitchen. Eggs and toast and coffee. She cooked. He watched.
"You cook for me now?" he asked.
"Don't get used to it."
"Too late."
She flipped an egg. Glanced at him.
"You're different today."
"Different how?"
"Lighter. Like something got lifted."
He sipped his coffee.
"I slept."
"You sleep every night."
"Not like this. Not with someone."
She slid the eggs onto a plate. Set it in front of him.
"Eat."
He ate.
She watched him. Soft eyes. Small smile.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"I know."
"Stop."
"No."
He shook his head. Kept eating.
She leaned on the counter. Held her coffee.
"I want to meet your mom."
He froze. Fork halfway to his mouth.
"My mom."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because she made you. I want to know her."
He set the fork down.
"My mom is... a lot."
"Good. So am I."
"She's complicated."
"I can handle complicated."
He stared at her.
"She's in Nevada. Been there since I was twelve."
"Okay."
"I don't talk to her much."
"I know."
"How do you know?"
"Because you've never mentioned her. In all the time we've been together. You've mentioned your dad. Your crew. But never a mom."
He didn't respond.
"She's a person, Isaiah. She has a story."
"I know her story."
"Then let me hear it."
He pushed his plate aside. Elbows on the table. Head in hands.
"You don't want to know."
"Try me."
He sighed. Long. Heavy.
"She was a dancer. Before I was born. Met my dad at a club. Beautiful. Wild. Didn't want to be stuck in a small town. She left when I was seven."
"Where'd she go?"
"Vegas. Then Reno. Then who the hell knows. She'd come back sometimes. Stay a few weeks. Tip well from whoever she was with. Then disappear again."
"That's hard."
"It's normal."
"It's not normal."
"Was for us."
She walked to him. Knelt in front of his chair.
"Where is she now?"
"Reno. Works at a casino. Pit boss, I think."
"You think?"
"I don't ask."
She touched his knee.
"Do you want to know?"
He looked at her. Something cracked behind his eyes.
"I don't know."
She leaned forward. Kissed his knee.
"I'll go with you. If you want."
"I don't want to see her."
"You don't have to. But you could."
He stared at her.
"She might not even want to see me."
"That's her problem."
He laughed. Bitter. Short.
"You're something else."
"I know."
He pulled her up. Onto his lap. Wrapped his arms around her.
"I'll think about it."
"That's all I'm asking."
She kissed him. Soft. Slow.
"Finish your breakfast."
He did.
---
That afternoon, they went to the store. He did inventory. She played records. Found an old Bill Withers album. Put it on.
"Ain't No Sunshine" filled the space.
She danced. Alone. In the aisle. Eyes closed. Hips swaying.
He watched from behind the counter.
She opened her eyes. Caught him.
"Come dance with me."
"I don't dance."
"Everyone dances."
He didn't move.
She walked over. Pulled his hand.
"Come on."
He let her pull him. Stiff. Awkward.
She placed his hand on her waist. Hers on his shoulder.
"Follow me."
"I don't know how."
"Just move."
He tried. Clumsy. Off-beat.
She laughed.
"You're terrible."
"I told you."
"Try again."
He did. Slightly better. His hand tightened on her waist.
"Better?"
"Marginally."
He spun her. Quick. She gasped. Then laughed.
"Where'd that come from?"
"Instinct."
He pulled her back. Close. Chest to chest.
The song changed. Something slower. Deeper.
"Are you gonna meet my friends?" she asked.
"Your friends?"
"Mei. And the others. The ones from the party."
"Mei screams like a banshee."
"She does."
"Do I have to?"
"Yes."
He sighed.
"Fine."
"Good."
She kissed him. Quick. Then pulled back.
"Shit."
"What?"
"My phone. I forgot to tell Mei about the call."
"What about it?"
"That I heard. Everything."
His eyes lit up.
"Call her."
"Now?"
"Now."
She dialed. Put it on speaker.
Mei answered on the first ring.
"Hey, girl—"
"Mei."
"What's up?"
"You called me this morning."
"I did?"
"Yep."
"Right. I did. What did I say?"
"You don't remember?"
"We were kinda... busy."
"Oh, I know."
Silence.
"Wait."
"Yep."
"Nova—"
"I heard everything."
"Oh my God."
"Everything, Mei."
"Oh my GOD."
"Marcus, fuck, right there," Nova quoted.
Mei groaned. Loud.
"He heard too."
"Who?"
"Isaiah."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"I'm hanging up."
"You love me."
"Goodbye, Nova."
"Bye, girl. Tell Marcus we said good job."
Mei screamed. Hung up.
Nova laughed. So did Isaiah.
"We're evil," she said.
"I know."
She pocketed her phone. Pulled him close.
"Worth it."
---
That night, they lay in bed. City glittering below. The hum of the record player in the other room.
She was on her side. Facing him. He was on his back. Staring at the ceiling.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"Liar."
He turned his head. Looked at her.
"My dad."
"What about him?"
"He'd like you."
She smiled. Soft.
"You think?"
"Yeah."
"What was he like?"
He was quiet for a long time.
"Hard. Quiet. But fair. He didn't talk much. But when he did, you listened."
"Sounds like you."
"Maybe."
"How'd he die?"
"Gunshot. Drive-by. Wrong place. Wrong time."
"How old were you?"
"Sixteen."
"I'm sorry."
"Me too."
She reached out. Touched his face.
"You're not him."
"How do you know?"
"Because you're still here. Still trying. Still caring."
He didn't respond.
She scooted closer. Pressed her body to his.
"I don't know what happens next," she said. "But I know I want to be here. With you."
He turned. Faced her. Wrapped an arm around her waist.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why me?"
She looked at him. Really looked.
"Because you're worth it."
He stared.
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I've done terrible things."
"I know."
"I'll probably do more."
"I know."
"So why?"
She leaned in. Kissed him. Soft. Deep.
"Because you're mine. And I'm yours. And that's enough."
He held her. Tight. Like she might disappear.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
She closed her eyes.
He stayed awake.
Watching her breathe.
Wondering how he'd gotten this lucky.
Wondering how long it would last.
---
The next morning, he woke before her.
Gray light. Silent city. Her body still curled against his.
He slipped out of bed. Pulled on jeans. Walked to the kitchen.
Made coffee. Leaned against the counter.
The city was waking up. Cars moving. People living.
He pulled out his phone. Scrolled to a contact. Stopped.
Mom.
He hadn't called it in years.
His thumb hovered.
Pressed.
The phone rang.
Once. Twice. Three times.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice. Tired. Familiar.
"This is Isaiah."
Silence.
Then—
"Zay?"
"Yeah."
"Oh my God."
He closed his eyes.
"I need to see you."
"When?"
"Soon. I'll figure it out."
More silence.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yeah. Okay."
He swallowed.
"I'll call you when I have details."
"Okay."
"Bye."
"Bye, baby."
He hung up.
Stared at the phone.
Nova appeared in the doorway. His shirt. Sleepy eyes.
"Who was that?"
He looked at her.
"My mom."
She walked over. Took his hand.
"How'd it go?"
"I don't know."
"One step at a time."
He pulled her close. Held her.
One step.
Then another.
Then another.
The phone buzzed.
A text.
I'm proud of you.
He bundled her in his arms and led her to the floor-to-ceiling window without a word. Together they stood in the silence of the penthouse, staring out at the city's awakening, her heartbeat a counterpoint to his own. The simple message glowed on the screen, a spark in the dim room, and for the first time in years, he didn't feel the weight of his last name. He just felt her, steady against his chest, a future he hadn't planned for but couldn't let go of.
"We have a lot to figure out," she said.
"We will."
"When do we leave?"
"Friday."
"Friday."
She nodded. Turned. Looked at him.
"Let's go back to bed."
They did.
And for the first time in his life, he didn't wake up alone.