Morning light slipped through the sheer curtains, pale and gentle against the covers.
Jean stirred first with a slow blink of her eyes, her mind still wrapped in the fog of sleep. Her body felt heavy, but in a warm, comforting way, the bone deep exhaustion was no longer there that usually haunted her mornings.
Then she noticed it.
A warmth beside her.
Jean’s breath caught. Slowly, she turned her head on the pillow.
Logan.
He was lying there, still half asleep, his usually stern face softened by the weight of dreams. One arm lay loosely between them, palm up... as if it had been waiting for hers all night.
Jean’s chest tightened, sothing fragile and unfamiliar blooming just beneath her ribs. He stayed, she realized. He could’ve left... but he didn’t.
Carefully, she propped herself on an elbow, studying him.
His tie and watch were gone, hair a little rumpled, the faintest shadow of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth... like even in sleep, sothing in him had finally settled.
She reached out, hesitating for a heartbeat, then let her fingertips lightly graze the back of his hand.
Her fingers touched his palm barely... just like a feather... so light, but it was enough.
Logan stirred, lashes fluttering open to et her gaze. For a mont, neither of them spoke.
Jean swallowed, words sticking in her throat. "You... you slept here," she whispered finally, her voice softer than she ant.
Logan’s eyes... still heavy with sleep... searched hers. He exhaled, his voice husky, so rough that could lt her right there.
"Yeah," he murmured. "Didn’t want to go."
Jean’s heart stumbled at the quiet honesty.
The distance that had settled between them these past nights... built from doubt, fear, old wounds neither dared to na... felt thinner now. Fragile, but thinner.
Logan shifted slightly, propping himself on one elbow to face her fully.
"Did I wake you?" he asked.
Jean shook her head. "No... I just..." Her words trailed off. "I didn’t expect you to be here."
His gaze held hers, unreadable at first... then softened looking down at her body.
"You asked once," Logan said, voice low, "why I did all this for you." Jean’s breath caught. "Maybe... it’s because I didn’t want you to feel abandoned and wake up alone anymore," he finished, so quietly she almost didn’t hear.
A silence stretched between them, the morning light warm on their skin.
Then, without really thinking, Jean leaned in... her forehead brushing gently against his. For the first ti in so long, the simple closeness felt more comforting than frightening. He doesn’t realise he is the only one I have let inside my own small world. To touch my body. To touch my soul.
And for a few precious seconds, the world outside... the betrayal, the scandals, the shadows of the Adams na... faded away.
It was just them.
Breathing the sa morning air.
They stayed like that for a mont longer, forehead to forehead, breaths mingling in the morning quiet. Then Logan eased back, his lips curving into sothing unmistakably mischievous.
"You know," he drawled, voice still low and gravelly from sleep, "you got all worked up last night."
Jean blinked, heat rushing to her cheeks. "What... when did that happen?"
"Don’t play innocent." His grin widened, lazy and wicked. "You kissed . Pulled in. And then... you said you wanted ." He lifted his brows pointedly. "You just left dry and high."
Jean’s mouth parted, equal parts scandalized and flustered. "Logan...!"
He leaned closer, dropping his voice even lower, teasing every word out slowly. "Had to sleep with blue balls, darling. Didn’t even get an apology."
Jean’s cheeks burned hotter. She tried to push his chest lightly, but Logan caught her wrist with maddening ease.
"I..." she started, words tumbling over each other, "I didn’t an to... Why didn’t you wake up?"
"Mm-hm. You needed your sleep." His thumb traced a lazy circle against her wrist, eyes dancing. "You’re dangerous, Mrs. Jean Kingsley."
She couldn’t help it... a small laugh slipped out, caught between mortification and sothing that felt dangerously close to delight.
"You’re impossible," she mumbled, trying to hide her smile as she slipped off the bed.
Logan followed her into the bathroom, still smirking, his gaze trailing after her every move.
Jean picked up her toothbrush, trying to focus on squeezing toothpaste... but her hands felt annoyingly shaky.
"Stop staring," she grumbled through a mouthful of foam.
"Can’t help it." Logan leaned against the doorway, arms folded, his grin softer now. "My wife’s cute when she’s flustered."
She nearly choked, glaring at him in the mirror. "Don’t call that so early in the morning," she muttered.
"What? Cute?" he teased.
"No. Wife," she corrected, rinsing her mouth quickly.
He only humd in reply, eyes gentler now beneath the teasing spark. "Then stop looking like one."
Jean froze at that... warmth flooding her chest, spreading under her skin. They stood there for a beat, the soft light of the bathroom catching on the quiet between them.
Then Logan stepped closer, brushing a knuckle along her jaw. "Go get dressed," he murmured. "We’ve both got a day to ruin, Mrs. Kingsley."
Jean rolled her eyes, but her heart wouldn’t stop thudding.
Even when he teased... especially then... he had a way of making her forget to breathe.
________________________
The ride to her office felt... different this morning.
Jean sat beside Logan in the backseat, files balanced carefully on her lap. Outside, the city blurred past in streaks of silver and gold.
Logan didn’t say much. But the quiet wasn’t cold. It felt... close. Like a secret they shared.
At a red light, Jean dared a sideways glance.
Logan had his phone in one hand, scrolling through emails, but his other hand rested on the seat between them... palm up, as if waiting.
For her.
Jean hesitated, then set her fingers lightly against his. His thumb brushed over her knuckles... a barely there motion, but it made her heart stumble anyway.
She turned her gaze quickly back to the window, pretending to admire the skyline.
"Nervous?" Logan’s voice broke the quiet.
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