Logan shifted in his sleep, his arm tightening around Jean's waist, pulling her closer. His eyes cracked open, heavy with sleep, lashes still clumped together.
"Watching me, Mrs. Kingsley?" His voice was low and husky, roughened by morning.
Jean blushed, as she got caught watching him. "Maybe," she whispered, softer than she intended.
His lips curved lazily into a half-smile. "Like what you see?"
"Maybe," she echoed, teasing back, though her heart beat wildly.
Logan leaned in, forehead brushing hers. "You're dangerous this early," he murmured, thumb rubbing absent circles against her hip.
"And you're smug," she shot back, her voice barely above a breath.
He laughed, the sound low and warm, before pressing a brief, soft kiss to her temple. "Guilty."
They lay there a moment longer, wrapped in quiet warmth, before the world beyond the bedroom slowly began to call.
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