"Hi," she whispers. It's rough with sleepy edges and a soft center. I feel it as much as I hear it.
I tip my chin enough to see her face. Her eyes are half-closed, lashes smudging shadows on her cheeks. There's a pillow-crease on her temple. Unguarded in a way I don't get to see often; young, soft, a little wrecked.
And sexy as hell.
"Sleep at all?" With my thumb, I trace circles on the small of her back. I could die here and call it a good death.
She nods against me. "Think so. You?"
"Yeah." More than I've slept in weeks. No bombs behind my eyes, no blood on my hands, no waking up sure someone's screaming. Just her weight, her breathing, and the feeling that if the world ended outside these walls, I might not notice.
She shifts, thigh dragging over mine, and my restraint snaps tight as a wire.
Easy. Don't flip her under you and spend the whole damn day fucking her into this mattress.
"You're thinking loud," she mutters, eyes mostly shut.
I huff a laugh. "Yeah?"
She nods, nose brushing my neck. "Your chest is doing… something." Her fingers press harder, tracking my heartbeat asthough she can read Morse code from it. "Feels as though you mainlined espresso."
"I haven't had coffee yet."
"That's… concerning."
What's concerning is all the places I want her. Counter, bed, couch, my lap, the wall. What's concerning is that now the words I love you are out, my pulse won't come down. Three words and my whole chest runs hot, every beat louder than the last.
"Hungry?" I ask, because if I stay in this bed much longer, the only thing I'm feeding is my own lack of self-control.
She stiffens, barely perceptible, shoulders pulling in a quarter-inch and her fingers curling against my chest. Then her stomach growls loud between us. Heat crawls up her neck. "Traitor," she mutters into my chest.
I laugh, a real one that feels strange after the last few days. Light. Unarmed.
"Coffee first. Then we steal the day."
She tips her head back. "Steal it?"
"Yeah." I brush a tangled strand off her cheek, let my knuckles skim the soft skin because I can. Because she let me keep this. "Just you and me. Off-grid for a few hours."
Her eyes scan my face as though she's looking for the trap. "You can just… do that?"
"I'm the one who tells Malachi when shit's on the schedule. War's important. So's not burning out before we get there."
The corner of her mouth lifts, small but lethal. "You can't reschedule war, Knox."
"Watch me. Today's booked. Says so right in my calendar. 'Do not disturb, busy with wife.'"
Her breath catches. Wife lands between us, a struck match. Her chin dips, eyes going wide and wet, and her teeth press into her lower lip hard enough to leave a mark. I want to press my thumb to that mark and hold it there.
"We could use a normal day," I add, softer. "Our version."
Our version of normal is pancakes at a shitty diner and my hand on her thigh under the table. Wind on the bike instead of sirens. Dusty bookstore shelves instead of war-room walls. Getting her naked because she wants to be, not because anyone demands it.
She watches me, my heartbeat doing double-time under her palm.
"Okay," she says finally. "A day." Neither of us has anywhere to be. No shifts, no meetings. Just this.
My chest unclenches so hard I almost feel dizzy.
