Chapter Nineteen: Dawn

The room was still, wrapped in the hush that only comes in the early hours, long after the chaos of night had burned itself out.

Marissa lay face down across the tangled sheets, her skin warm, flushed, her limbs deliciously heavy. The air smelled of whiskey, sweat, and sex. Her body hummed with something deeper than just pleasure. A memory etched into every aching muscle.

She shifted slightly and winced, not in pain, but in the slow burn that followed hours of being fully wanted. Thoroughly seen. Thoroughly touched.

They’d done everything. On the bed, of course. Then up against the wall, her legs around his waist as he held her there with surprising strength. Later, on her hands and knees, her back arched, his hands steady on her hips as he filled her slow and deep. And once brief, ****, laughing, she’d straddled him on the edge of the couch, guiding him in with a control that made them both moan.

She could still feel him in all those places. Still feel herself wrapped around him, clenching, gasping, giving. God he’d been good.

Now, her breath came in quiet, steady waves against the pillow. Her thighs trembled with the memory. Her voice was hoarse, her lips swollen from kissing, moaning, biting down to stay quiet when it got too good.

Beside her, Daniel stirred, one arm tucked under the pillow, the other draped loosely across her lower back. He wasn’t asleep, not fully. Just resting the way someone does when they’ve got nothing left to prove.

She turned her head slightly. “What time is it?”

“Late,” he said, his voice low, gravel-rough. “Or early. Depending how you look at it.”

Marissa gave a tired smile, her eyes still closed. “You okay?”

He was quiet for a moment. Then: “I am now.”

She opened one eye to look at him, and for the first time, she didn’t see the man connected to Olivia or Samantha. She just saw him. He was good looking, in a way she hadn’t noticed until now.

“I can’t believe you bent me over the balcony,” she muttered.

He laughed quietly. “You told me to.”

“I did not.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘I want to see the city while you fuck me.’”

She groaned into the pillow, equal parts embarrassment and pride. “God, I hate you.”

He smiled, trailing his fingers gently down the curve of her back. “No you don’t.”

Marissa was quiet for a moment. Then, softer, “No. I don’t.”

She shifted toward him, their legs tangling again beneath the sheets. Her bare skin slid easily against his. She didn’t care about the mess. The sweat. The soreness. She felt good. Wrecked in the best way.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, voice hesitant.

“Mm?”

“Was it weird? With me, I mean.”

She opened her eyes fully then, studying him in the early light.

“It was different,” she said honestly. “But no. It wasn’t weird. You were… good.” She let the compliment hang there. “Better than good.”

He looked a little stunned by that. Like he didn’t quite believe her.

“And I’m not just saying that to spare your feelings,” she added. “I screamed into a throw pillow. That shit was real.”

Daniel chuckled, eyes closing briefly. “That was a good pillow.”

She laughed quietly propping herself up on her elbows. She watched him, his body looking sinful. But still not quite right in her eyes. “I’m still a lesbian Daniel,” she said to him. “Men just don’t look right.”

He blinked. Surprised for half a second. Then nodded, like it clicked into place. Like he understood what she was really saying. This was real, but it didn’t rewrite her.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Of course you are. I know.”

So, she smiled and said, “Hey. Don’t pout. You’re officially the exception to the rule.”

He looked at her, one brow arching. “Oh yeah? That supposed to be flattering?”

“It is,” she said, grinning. “You’re the only man who’s ever made me scream into hotel bedding. That’s a high honor.”

Daniel laughed, the sound low and genuine. “Well, when you put it like that…”

A beat passed between them. A stillness.

“I mean it,” she said finally. “You were good. I felt safe. That’s not nothing.”

Daniel nodded, letting the words settle. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “For what it’s worth, you made me feel wanted. I haven’t felt that in… a long time.”

There was no need to name names. They both knew who he meant.

She leaned in and kissed his cheek, lips barely grazing skin. “Well. Now you know you are.”

She stretched then, long and feline, arms reaching forward, back arching just enough to make his eyes stray, inevitably, down to the curve of her ass. He wasn’t subtle, and she didn’t mind. But he was too tired to move again, even if every part of him wanted to.

She checked her phone, and sighed disappointingly.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Still no word from Olivia,” she responded.

They hadn’t talked about Olivia in a while. Not since they’d taken to the bed.

“Were you expecting to hear back from her?”

She sighed and closed her eyes, placing the phone back on the dresser. “I don’t know what I was expecting.”

She pulled away from him, not out of shame for what they had done, just trying to return to reality.

“Do you still love Sam?”

The question didn’t stab, it didn’t need to. It settled into the room like smoke, curling into the silence between them.

Daniel swallowed, staring at the creases in the bedsheet. It wasn’t the kind of question people asked in the aftermath of intimacy. Not in bed, not naked, not when the air still smelled like sweat and heat and trust.

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “Yeah, I do.”

He didn’t look at her when he said it. “She’s the mother of my child, I think I’d be lying if I claimed that I didn’t love her. Even after all she did.”

And she had hurt him badly, but as it stood yeah he still loved her.

“Do you still love Olivia?”

Marissa stilled. Then without a word, she stood up, letting the sheet slide down her legs. The room was warm but her skin still prickled from the question.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked across the room naked, unhurried, her muscles sore in all the right places. She could feel the aftermath of the fuckfest they’d just had in every step, every stretch. It wasn’t shame she was feeling it was reality knocking at the edges of her high.

Daniel watched her, his eyes lingering on the slope of her back, the sway of her hips, the flex of her thighs. It wasn’t just arousal. It was awe. Even now, she could feel it radiating off him. And, well, she liked that. She liked being looked at like that.

She opened a bottle of water, took a long drink, then let out a crisp, satisfied, “Ah.”

Then she turned to face him, leaning one hip against the dresser, bottle in hand like it was a prop in a play she hadn’t decided if she wanted to be in.

“No,” she answered voice without malice or regret. “No, I don’t.”

Tonight has been the nail in the coffin. Not sex with Daniel, but the fact that she couldn’t even be bothered to face her. Knowing that Daniel knew, that she could have told her the story. That she could have let her know before all that and she didn’t.

And she had hoped for a moment that she would text her back, that she would call, anything. But no, she hadn’t. That wasn’t love.

“I think I love the idea of her, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“I love the idea of rebellious, smirking, unbothered Olivia more than I do the real Olivia.” Cowardly, selfish, and spiteful Olivia.

She drank her water again, taking another long drink.

“So what’s that mean for you?”

“Fuck if I know,” she said to Daniel. “It’s too early for that nonsense. All I know is I need a shower,” she said setting the water bottle down.

She gave him a look over, “Don’t follow me in,” she said pausing at the door of the shower. “Unless you want to.”

Daniel didn’t miss that hint.