RIDE OR CRY
Maya woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains and the warmth of a body pressed against hers. For a moment, she didn't remember where she was. The light was different here—softer, golden, filtering through cheap fabric that billowed slightly in the morning breeze. The bed was different too—firmer, older, with springs that creaked whenever she shifted. The smell was different—leather and cedar and something distinctly male.
Then she felt the arm draped across her waist, heavy and possessive. She felt the steady rhythm of breathing at her back, the slow rise and fall of a chest pressed against her spine. She felt the warmth of skin against skin, the rough texture of calloused fingers splayed across her stomach.
And it all came flooding back.
She'd stayed.
She'd stay
