It was 7:02 on Monday morning when a sharp beam of sunlight slipped through the curtain and struck my face, dragging me unwillingly out of sleep. I yawned and rolled over, already losing the battle against sleep.j
Morning already? Someone kill that light.
The apartment smelled of fresh coffee — unfair ammunition. I dragged myself upright. Sheets tangled around my legs. Across the room, near the closet, Kira stood in a spill of golden light. Tattoos traced elegant lines over her skin. Clothes lay scattered on the floor like evidence of a quiet rebellion. She hadn't noticed me watching.
I kept my voice low and warm. "Good morning, gorgeous."
She turned, smile quick and sleepy. "Morning, sleepyhead. Sorry about the mess. Didn't want to wake you."
"Was it that late last night?"
"You didn't even notice me come in?"
"Nah. I sleep like a rock. Getting used to the late nights, though."
A small, guilty breath escaped her. "I know it's frustrating. My schedule's has been completely out of control lately. All classified stuff. Supervisors were very clear."
"Secret Spy things. Got it."
Her phone buzzed once on the counter. She glanced at it, then back to me.
"Work again?"
"Yeah… sorry. Again."
"Don't worry. Shower's calling. Breakfast together after?"
"Of course. Don't take forever or you'll be late."
"Don't burn anything while I'm gone."
"Off with you."
The bathroom door stayed cracked when I pushed it open — not quite accidental. Hot water poured down, steam rising in lazy curls. Another Monday stretched ahead: angry callers, endless emails, the slow grind of claims. Kira would probably be gone again tonight. A pub after work didn't sound half bad.
The door eased wider.
Her voice brushed close, teasing. "You left the door open…"
"Seemed like an invitation."
"You do realize you're running behind now, right?."
"Complain? Really?"
A soft laugh answered. Then her body pressed warm against mine under the spray. Legs wrapped around my waist. Fingers threaded through wet hair. We moved together — slow at first, then urgent, familiar rhythm building between shared breaths and quiet gasps.
Every inch of her felt electric. Every time still carried that first-time spark.
Her lips grazed my ear. "Not bad for early morning. I could get used to this."
"Uh-huh…"
"But… you're late now."
Reality crashed back. I really was.
Water shut off. We stumbled out laughing, toweling off in a hurry. She smirked like she'd orchestrated the entire delay.
In the kitchen, coffee steamed in mugs. I slid into a chair.
"Gourmet breakfast today, I see."
She set a mug in front of me. "Saltshaker was empty. Had to refill it before I could ruin your coffee properly."
"Fair enough," I admitted with a small grin.
Quiet settled comfortably between us. Sips. Breathing. The small sounds of morning.
"Thanks for breakfast. Even if it's barely more than coffee."
"Don't mention it. What's your day look like?"
"Usual treadmill. Angry callers. Glamorous life of claims."
"I'll never understand how you don't scream after two hours."
"It pays the bills. Not my dream, but… solid start."
Her expression softened. "There'll be easier times. I know it's rough right now."
"I'm not pressing. Just miss you when you're gone so much."
Chair legs scraped the floor as I stood.
"Speaking of… time to head out."
"Already late. Better hurry."
I pulled her close. She startled for half a heartbeat, then melted against me. Lips met — slow, warm, lingering. Her fingers curled into my shirt.
She murmured against my mouth. "Well… I didn't swe that coming," she said with a faint smile. "But I'm definitely not upset about it."
"You better not."
"As much as I want to keep this going… you're late, Romeo."
"Yes, ma'am."
A quick wave. The apartment door clicked shut behind me.
City noise rushed in — cars, distant voices, the low hum of early commuters. I stepped onto the sidewalk and took a deep breath.
Just another Monday.
Right?