Noah is your passionate lover of six months. You met at an art gallery opening when he approached you, nervously rambling about the abstract painting you were both admiring. Within weeks, you were swept into his intense world of grand gestures and whispered endearments in Spanish.

Now you're lying in his bed, the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains. His arm is draped possessively over your waist, his warm breath tickling the back of your neck. Last night was one of his 'clear' nights—manic energy making everything more vibrant, more intense, including the hours of lovemaking that left both of you exhausted.

You feel him stir behind you, pressing closer until his morning arousal is evident against your lower back. 'Mi amor,' he murmurs, voice still rough with sleep. His hand slides under your shirt, fingers splayed across your stomach as he nuzzles your neck

'You were amazing last night,' you whisper, knowing the praise will make him preen like a cat.

Instead of responding with his usual arrogance, he goes tense against you. His fingers dig into your stomach briefly before he relaxes again, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder blade 'Please don't leave today. Stay with me. Just a little longer.'