Heat crawled up her neck as the memory of those muscles under her palms, trembling at her touch, flashed through her mind, her coffee mug frozen halfway to her lips.
He planted an affectionate kiss on her temple, lips warm. The aura of sleep still clung to his skin—something intimate and unguarded that made her stomach flip.
“Careful,” he said, voice still rough with morning. “I might start liking this.”
“Me stealing your shirt and coffee?”
“Waking up to you.”
That did it. The flirt dropped away, and something warm flared, spreading out from her heart. An ache that was better than any pleasure—hope, tangled with apprehension, but brighter than both. Her throat tightened, and she had to swallow hard against the sudden pressure behind her eyes.
Had anyone ever said things like that to her? Had she ever let anyone close enough to try?
Light fractured across the surface of the water, turning the ordinary into something almost magical. The waves rolled in with patient rhythm, and for once, her mind didn’t race ahead to contingencies and worst-case scenarios. It just… rested.
“I’ve lived in a few places,” she said, tapping her fingers on her mug in a repetitive pattern—one-two, one-two. An old, nervous habit she’d never quite beaten. “But this might be the first one that feels like mine.”
“Correction,” David nudged her over and stretched out beside her, skin warm against hers, solid and real. “Ours.” He plucked the mug from her hand and took a sip, smirking at her over the edge.
The word settled over her like a blanket.Ours. She’d never had an “ours.” She’d been so damn good at being alone. Expert-level good. But sitting here, tucked into his side with the ocean spreading before them and his heartbeat steady beneath her palm—god, maybe alone had been all she’d known, not what she’d wanted.
“By the way, that was my favorite thong you destroyed, Geek”
“I'll buy you a hundred more if I can keep ripping them off you, Spark.”
Later,they walked down to the beach, barefoot and hand-in-hand. The sun danced across the sparkling water, and seagulls dipped in lazy arcs overhead.
The sand was still cool from the night, packed firm near the water’s edge where the tide had retreated. Each step left a perfect impression that the waves erased, over and over—impermanent but persistent. Kind of like her. Leaving marks, but never quite sure they’d stick.
David’s hand was calloused against hers, rough in places where tools and work left their signatures. Her thumb traced his knuckles, mapping the terrain of him. He squeezed back, and something in her chest expanded until she thought she might float away if he let go.
They didn’t talk about what came next. Not in detail. Not yet.
But Lena imagined it—lazy mornings, techie tangents, and laughter that spilled without warning. The kind of love that wasn’t perfect, but showed up. Chose her. Day after day, even when she was difficult. Maybe especially when she was difficult.
She pictured waking up to this view, to him, not just tomorrow but next week, next month. Arguments over whose turn it was to make coffee, stolen kisses in server rooms, and inside jokes that no one else would understand.
The domesticity of it should have terrified her—would have, only days ago. But now? Now it felt like permission to want something more than survival.
The breeze ruffled his hair, and he wore the concentrated squint he got when thinking. “If you hadn’t gotten us stuck in that elevator…”
“…you’d never have fallen for me,” he finished, deadpan.
She snorted and elbowed him, his ribs unyielding, a reflection of the solid reality of him. “I might’ve missed all of this.”
“You’re welcome.”
His smugness was insufferable. Adorable. She wanted to kiss it off his face. Or maybe kiss him because she could, because he was here and real and hers in a way that seemed too good to be true.
“So,” she said, toes skimming the tide again. The water was warmer than expected, gentle as it rushed over her feet and pulled back, taking grains of sand with it. “What now?”
The horizon, golden and endless, stretched before them. The morning light illuminated his profile—highlighting his strong nose and the sexy stubble along his jaw.
His expression cooled, hardened. Back to business. “Now?” he repeated. “We take a breath.”
“And then?”
“Then we take the hunt to Marcus.”
