Midnight Rain

 

The sky poured with soft summer rain as Maya stood by the glass door of the cabin, watching droplets race down the window. The crackling fireplace behind her glowed orange and gold, casting dancing shadows across the wooden walls.

She didn’t hear him walk in — only felt his arms slide gently around her waist from behind.

“Cold?” Liam whispered into her ear, his lips brushing her skin.

She smiled, leaning into his warmth. “Just... thinking.”

“About what?”

“About us.”

Liam turned her around slowly. His deep brown eyes searched hers like they always did — not in a rush, not with hunger, but with a kind of longing that made her heart ache and flutter at once.

They kissed — slow, deep, unhurried — the kind of kiss that felt like both a question and a promise.

His hands explored her back through her thin cotton shirt. She reached up, fingers threading through his damp hair, pulling him closer as the rain outside turned heavier, like nature itself had no choice but to surrender.

Clothes fell, gently, like petals from a flower. Piece by piece, until nothing separated their skin but the heat in the room.

They moved toward the rug in front of the fire. He laid her down, every motion deliberate, reverent. Her breath caught as he kissed her neck, her collarbone, each touch sending ripples through her body.

“I love the way you look at me,” she whispered, voice trembling as he ran his hands down her sides.
“I love the way you let me,” he whispered back, mouth grazing her hip.

Their bodies met like waves — slow, then rising, crashing, dancing. Every motion was a poem, every gasp a lyric. They didn’t rush. They held. They whispered. They listened — not just to the sounds of their love, but to the storm outside, the crackling fire, and the rhythm of two hearts beating in time.

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And when they reached the crescendo, it wasn’t just climax — it was release. It was trust. It was a promise made again, not with words, but with touch.

Later, she curled up against him under the blanket, his chest rising and falling beneath her cheek.

“Still thinking?” he asked, half-asleep.

She smiled into his skin.
“No,” she whispered. “Now I’m just feeling.”