The golden morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the hotel room. Ethan stirred, eyes blinking open to the sunlight and the soft sound of steady breathing beside him. For a moment, he simply lay there, soaking it in—the warmth of the sheets, the gentle scent of her shampoo, the soft rise and fall of her chest.
Lena.
She was curled slightly toward him, hair spilling across the pillow, one hand resting near his chest. Her face, peaceful in sleep, seemed even softer in the morning light. Beautiful in a way that caught him off guard every time.
A smile tugged at his lips.
He leaned in slowly, not wanting to wake her—but unable to resist. His lips brushed gently against hers in a soft, lingering kiss, just enough to feel her warmth.
Lena stirred, eyelids fluttering as she woke, her gaze meeting his.
"You were watching me sleep?" she mumbled, voice husky with sleep and faint embarrassment coloring her cheeks.
Ethan smirked, still close. "Guilty."
She groaned lightly and pulled the blanket a little higher, turning her face into the pillow. "That's so unfair."
"You looked peaceful," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Didn't want to disturb it."
As she stretched and turned toward him, the morning light lit his upper body. Her eyes drifted down, catching sight of the faint scars etched across his chest and shoulder. In the dim hotel room last night, she'd only caught glimpses—but now she could see them clearly.
She reached out gently, fingertips tracing one along his collarbone. "Do they still hurt?" she asked softly.
He caught her hand, holding her fingers in his. "No. Not anymore."
She looked up at him. "How did you get them?"
Ethan was quiet for a moment, thumb brushing over her knuckles. "Some from training. Some from missions. Close calls, mostly." He hesitated, then added, "One from a roadside blast. One from a blade."
Lena's breath caught slightly. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"No," he said, voice steady but low. "I want to. For you."
She waited, her hand still in his.
"I joined the force because I needed to get away from everything," Ethan said, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "My father. The company. Expectations. I thought if I could throw myself into something dangerous, maybe I could find purpose. Or clarity."
He paused. Lena stayed silent, letting him speak in his own time.
"Some of it was hell. There were days we didn't sleep. Nights we didn't know if we'd see another sunrise. But there were moments, too… moments when I felt like I was actually doing something that mattered. Saving people. Protecting what others couldn't."
Lena's gaze never left his face. She could feel the weight of his words—how each scar was more than a mark on skin. It was something earned, endured.
"You didn't have to carry it all alone," she whispered. She leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to the scar just above his heart. Her fingers remained against his chest, as if offering comfort he didn't know he needed.
"I'm glad you came back," she murmured. "And I'm even more glad you let me in."
Ethan's arms came around her again, drawing her close.
"A part of me never really left you," he said quietly,
The warmth between them lingered as the minutes passed, a gentle hush filling the room. Eventually, Lena nudged Ethan lightly. "Come on, we should get ready before breakfast ends."
Ethan grinned, still lying back with his arm tucked behind his head. "You first."
Lena gave him a look. "You've already seen me sleep. You don't get a free show."
He laughed, then stood with a stretch. "Fine. We'll share."
She blinked. "Share?"
"The bathroom," he clarified, walking toward it. "Unless you're scared."
Lena rolled her eyes, but her heart skipped as she got out of bed and followed him in.
The hotel bathroom was sleek and modern—marble tiles, rainfall showerhead, warm lights reflecting off glass panels. Ethan turned on the water, testing the temperature with his hand before glancing over his shoulder at her.
"You sure?" he asked, his voice lower now. No teasing. Just a quiet invitation.
Lena's breath caught. The air between them shifted, thick with heat and awareness. Slowly, she nodded.
Under the stream of hot water, their bodies met—bare skin to skin. Ethan cupped her face and kissed her, slow at first, then deeper, with the same quiet hunger from the night before—but no longer held back. His hands ran down her back, pulling her close until the steam wrapped around them like a cocoon. Lena's fingers tangled in his damp hair, her breath hitching as his mouth moved to her neck, her collarbone, tracing lines of heat along her skin.
She gasped softly as his hands explored her, sliding along curves and hollows like he'd imagined this moment more than once. He murmured her name, again and again. And when they finally lost themselves in each other.
"Ethan—" His name was a plea, a sigh, lost in the steam and the heat of his mouth on hers. He groaned against her lips, his fingers working her with slow, maddening strokes, drawing out every shiver, every desperate noise she couldn't hold back.
"I've thought about this," he admitted roughly, his voice thick with need. "How you'd feel. How you'd sound."
Lena's nails dug into his shoulders as pleasure coiled tight inside her, his touch relentless, perfect. The water cascaded over them, heightening every sensation—the glide of his skin against hers, the way his body pressed her into the tile, solid and unyielding.
Just as she teetered on the edge, he withdrew, earning a whimper of protest—but only for a moment. In one fluid motion, he hooked her leg around his hip and filled her in a single, deep thrust.
They both cried out, the sensation overwhelming—hot, slick friction, the way she stretched around him, the way he shuddered at the feel of her. He held still for a heartbeat, forehead pressed to hers, breathing ragged.
Then he moved.
Slow at first, savoring the way her body clung to his, the way her breath came in sharp, sweet gasps. But soon, restraint shattered. His grip tightened on her thigh, his hips driving into her with growing urgency, each stroke hitting that perfect, dizzying spot inside her.
Lena clung to him, her moans mingling with the rush of water, pleasure building with every thrust. His mouth found hers again, swallowing her cries as she tightened around him, her climax crashing over her in waves.
Ethan followed with a groan, his rhythm faltering as he spilled into her, his body trembling against hers. For a long moment, they stayed like that—breathless, tangled, hearts pounding in unison.
When he finally pulled back, his kiss was soft and unhurried.
Later, dressed and hand-in-hand, they took the elevator down to the hotel lobby. The breakfast buffet still bustled with guests. Ethan pulled out a chair for Lena before taking the seat beside her. She poured him coffee. He handed her the jam for her toast.
He pulled out a chair for Lena, gesturing for her to sit before taking the seat beside her. Lena returned the smile and sat down gracefully. She poured him a cup of coffee from the steaming pot on the table, the rich aroma filling the space between them.
"Thank you," he said, taking the cup and sipping the hot coffee, his eyes never leaving hers.
She returned the gesture with a smile, her hand reaching for the jam jar to spread a bit on her toast. He noticed the way her fingers moved gently, a quiet rhythm that made him admire her more than he ever had before.