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 chose me."
Ethan's arms came around her again, drawing her close.
"A part of me never really left you," he said quietly.
Lena picked up the small, silver thumb drive from the gift box, her fingers brushing over it with a mix of fondness and nervousness. "Do you… want to see them now?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.
Ethan looked at her, eyes warm. "Yeah," he said with a nod. "I want to see everything."
Lena smiled faintly and walked over to the TV console. Ethan joined her, taking the thumb drive from her hand and plugging it into the port beneath the hotel room's flat screen. The screen flickered to life, and the first image appeared—a photo of a younger Lena standing in front of her law school building, hair tied up in a messy bun, books hugged tightly to her chest.
"You looked so serious," Ethan teased gently, sitting back on the couch and patting the spot beside him.
"I was serious," she said, joining him. "Law school kind of demands that."
As the slideshow progressed, Lena narrated bits of her life—the late nights buried in textbooks, her little victories in moot court competitions, coffee-fueled mornings with her study group, and the tiny apartment she stayed in, where she'd pinned her dreams up on the walls like promises to herself.
Ethan listened intently, his gaze flickering between her face and the screen, as if he were absorbing not just the images but the emotion behind them. Every so often, he'd ask a quiet question, or make a comment that made her laugh—those deep, belly laughs that only came when she truly felt safe.
"You went through all that alone," he murmured at one point, when a photo came up of Lena sitting cross-legged on her narrow dorm bed, surrounded by books and empty coffee cups. "I wish I'd been there. To bring you dinner. Or at least nag you to sleep."
She looked at him, touched. "You were chasing your own path too."
"Still," he said, brushing a thumb over the back of her hand. "It feels like I'm getting to know a version of you I never had the chance to meet."
Lena turned slightly to face him, her knees curled under her on the couch. "And yet it doesn't feel like you missed much," she said softly. "Telling you all this now… it's like I'm reliving it with you."
He smiled and leaned in, resting his forehead lightly against hers. "Then let's say I'm just catching up. And from now on, I don't want to miss a thing."
Lena closed her eyes for a moment, letting those words settle into her chest, before nudging him gently. "There's more. I even saved my graduation photo."
On screen, Lena stood in her gown, holding her certificate and smiling brighter than she ever remembered. Ethan stared at the photo longer than the rest.
"You look… proud."
"I was," she admitted. "Studying and graduating from Law School is never easy."
Ethan reached for her hand again, this time lifting it to his lips and kissing the back of it gently. "I wish I could've been there. I would've cheered louder than anyone else."
They sat in silence as the last few pictures flashed by, the screen eventually dimming to black. Lena turned her head toward him.
"So," she said, a hint of playfulness returning. "What do you think?"
"I think," Ethan said, shifting closer until their knees touched, "this is the best birthday gift I've ever received. Because I didn't just get pictures—I got pieces of you."
Lena laughed softly, brushing her thumb against his cheek. "You're getting cheesy in your old age, Calloway."
"Only for you," he murmured, before leaning in to kiss her—slow and grateful, with the kind of tenderness
"Come on," she whispered, still tucked against him. "We should get ready before breakfast ends."
Ethan didn't answer right away. Instead, he shifted, wrapped an arm around her, and in one smooth motion, scooped her up into his arms.
"Ethan!" Lena squeaked, laughing as her arms looped instinctively around his neck.
He grinned down at her. "We'll get ready. Together."
She blinked at him. "Together?"
"The bathroom's big enough," he said with a shrug, carrying her with ease toward the bathroom.
The hotel bathroom was clean and modern, with marble tiles and soft lighting. Ethan turned on the shower, checked the water temperature, then looked back at her.
"You ready?" 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.
As they finished the last bites of breakfast, Ethan reached over and wiped a smudge of jam from the corner of her lips with his thumb. Lena laughed and blushed, leaning in to kiss his cheek in thanks.
They stayed like that a while longer—talking quietly, laughing easily, their hands never straying too far from each other.