Page 131 of Traitor

"Baby, wake up," his rough voice whispers, warm and close. "I have a surprise for you."

I groan, barely conscious, curling deeper into the sheets. "What surprise?" My voice is thick with sleep. "Just come hold me. I don't need anything."

His chuckle rumbles beside my ear, deep and indulgent. "I'll hold you anyway, baby."

He kisses my temple, his lips moving slowly, reverently over my skin. Not urgent, not sexual, just a gentle worship of touch. He knows how hard mornings hit me, how long it takes for my mind to crawl out of the fog. He's figured out that his touch is the one thing that wakes me without the usual grumpiness.

He kisses my cheek, my nose, my closed eyelids, and finally, a slow, lingering kiss on my lips. That one does it. My arms wrap around his neck on instinct, my fingers tangling into his hair as I blink up at him, still hazy.

He smiles, his face just inches from mine, those blue-gray eyes smoldering with soft happiness, the kind that’s only shared between the two of us.

"I found something. Something you'll like. Or so I'm hoping," he murmurs.

I sigh, my lips curving lazily. "I have you. That's enough."

"Of course it is, baby," he says, and the warmth in his voice sinks deep into my soul.

He shifts, reaching over to the nightstand. A cup of coffee appears in my line of vision, steaming, rich, the scent curling into the air like temptation.

I blink at it, then at him. "Are you bribing me with caffeine?"

"Bribing? Never." His smirk is slow, teasing. "Think of it as... an offering."

I huff a laugh but take it, the warmth of the ceramic seeping into my hands. I don't question it. He knows my ritual. He knows I need at least two mouthfuls before I can function.

So I lift the cup, inhale the scent, and take that first blissful, mind-clearing sip.

And then I see it.

The words.

Written inside the rim of the cup, revealed only when I drink.

— Every sip, a reminder: I love you. —

My breath catches mid-swallow, my fingers tightening around the handle.

I lower the cup slowly, looking up at him, my chest suddenly tight in the best way.

"I love you, too." My voice comes out rough, filled with emotion.

His smirk softens into something deeper, quieter.

"I saw it and thought of you," he murmurs, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. "Figured you should have something to remind you how much I love you, every morning. Even when I'm not here."

I stare at him, then down at the cup, then back at him. My heart squeezes so hard it's almost painful.

"You sneaky, romantic bastard."

His grin spreads, wide and unapologetic. "Guilty as charged."

I take another sip, this time just to see the words again. To let them settle in my chest, warming me from the inside out.

I set the cup aside and pull him down to me, capturing his lips in a slow, deep kiss.

Because coffee is great.

But him?

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