Chapter Thirteen: Too Close to Stop
798 Words
The space between them didn’t exist anymore.
Ayla felt it in the way her body stayed close to his, in the way her hands hadn’t left him, in the way her thoughts had gone quiet—replaced by something warmer, heavier.
Something she wasn’t trying to fight anymore.
Maximus’s gaze stayed on her, darker now, more focused.
“You’re still thinking,” he murmured.
Ayla shook her head slightly, her fingers tightening in his shirt. “Not anymore.”
That answer did something to him.
She saw it—the shift in his expression, the way his jaw set just slightly before his hand moved again, sliding more firmly along her waist, pulling her closer like he didn’t plan on letting her drift away.
Her breath hitched.
“Maximus—”
He didn’t let her finish.
His lips found hers again, this time with more intention—slower at first, like he was taking his time, then deeper, more certain as she leaned into him without hesitation.
Ayla melted into it.
Her hands moved instinctively, one sliding up to the back of his neck, the other gripping his shirt as she pressed closer, her body reacting before her mind could catch up.
The bond flared.
Hot.
Immediate.
Her breath broke slightly against his as the kiss deepened, her thoughts slipping completely now, replaced with the feeling of him—steady, present, not pulling away.
Not hesitating.
Not rejecting.
That alone made her lean in more.
Maximus responded instantly, one hand tightening at her waist, the other lifting to her jaw, tilting her face just enough to keep her right where he wanted her.
Close.
Connected.
Ayla let out a soft breath against him, her fingers curling slightly as she held onto him, grounding herself in something that finally felt mutual.
“You’re not stopping,” he murmured quietly.
She shook her head, her voice barely there. “I don’t want to.”
That was all the permission he needed.
The kiss shifted again—slower, deeper, less restrained, like neither of them was pretending anymore.
Ayla’s back brushed the couch as he guided her back without breaking the moment, her heart racing as she let herself follow instead of pull away.
Everything felt closer.
More intense.
Her breathing uneven, her body warm, her thoughts completely gone now under the weight of it.
“Tell me to stop,” he said softly against her lips.
She didn’t.
Instead, she leaned in again.
That answer was louder than anything she could’ve said.
⸻
Maximus exhaled quietly, something almost like satisfaction slipping through before he kissed her again, slower this time, like he was taking his time with her—learning her, not rushing.
Ayla’s hands moved again, more certain now, less hesitant, holding onto him like she didn’t want the moment to end.
Because she didn’t.
Not when it felt like this.
Not when she felt like this.
Wanted.
Chosen.
His hand moved slightly along her side, steady, grounding, keeping her close without overwhelming her.
And she stayed there.
Let herself stay there.
For once, she wasn’t second guessing every feeling.
Wasn’t pulling back before something could go wrong.
She was just… here.
With him.
⸻
When they finally pulled apart, it wasn’t far.
Just enough to breathe.
Ayla’s chest rose and fell unevenly, her forehead resting lightly against his as she tried to steady herself.
“This…” she whispered, “this doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to.”
Maximus’s hand stayed at her waist, thumb brushing lightly, absent-minded but intentional.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s too easy,” she admitted.
His lips brushed hers again—soft, brief, but enough to make her breath catch all over again.
“Maybe it’s just right,” he said.
Her heart tightened at that.
Ayla looked at him, really looked this time, her expression softer now, more open than it had been with anyone else.
“I feel different with you,” she said quietly.
His gaze didn’t waver. “Good.”
She let out a small breath, something fragile slipping through.
“…I feel like I finally have a mate.”
The words hung between them.
Real.
Unfiltered.
And for a moment—
Maximus didn’t respond.
Not right away.
His expression didn’t change much—but something deeper flickered beneath it.
Something she didn’t quite catch.
“…Yeah,” he said finally, quieter now.
But the way he said it—
It wasn’t as simple as she believed.
⸻
Ayla didn’t question it.
Not when her heart was still racing.
Not when his hand hadn’t left her.
Not when everything in that moment felt like something she had been missing.
Instead—
She leaned in again.
And this time—
She didn’t hold back.
- Writer
