I wake to weight.
Not the alarming sort. The good sort. Warm, solid, breathing. Christa is still there, curled into my side, one knee slung over my thigh, her hair in my face.
For a second, I just lie there, stunned by the normality of it. Morning light sneaking round the curtains. Her breath warm against my chest. No alarms going off in my head. No urge to bolt.
This still feels right.
She stirs, nose nudging into my collarbone, fingers brushing my ribs in that half-asleep, absent-minded way that should probably be illegal.
“Morning,” I murmur.
She hums, not quite awake yet. Then she is. Her eyes blink open and she grins, soft and a bit shy, like she’s checking I’m still real.
“Hi,” she says.
We lie there for a moment, just looking at each other. It’s quiet in the flat. Peaceful. Dangerous again.
She clears her throat.
Then, very carefully, she peeks under the duvet.
I blink. “What are you doing?”
“Checking,” she says, entirely unapologetic.
“Checking what?”
She looks back up at me. “Morning wood.”
I bark out a laugh. “You’re subtle, you know that.”
“Well,” she shrugs, “it felt like a reasonable data-gathering exercise.”
I shake my head, still smiling. “For the record, my brother did once suggest I should sleep with women in the morning when I’ve got wood. It’s a known window of opportunity.”
Her eyes light up. “See. I knew it wasn’t a stupid thought.”
“Sadly,” I say, regretfully, “not even a tiny splinter this morning.”
She sighs, dramatic and put-upon. “Tragic.”
“Devastating,” I agree.
She flops back against the pillow, then glances at me sideways. “Worth checking though.”
“Always worth checking,” I say solemnly.
There’s a beat.
Then I add, “That said...”
She looks at me again.
“I might not be able to offer that particular service,” I murmur against her lips, my voice still rough with sleep and something heavier underneath, “but I do have other skills.”
My hand keeps moving, slow and certain, sliding between her legs.
She sucks in a breath. “You do realise,” she says, half-amused, half-hopeful, “that my knickers are still in the kitchen.”
