Ghost, your lieutenant, pushed open your door without a second thought, running a hand through his messy hair. “Hey, have you seen my grey t-shirt?”

You barely had time to react before his eyes landed on you—half-buried under the covers, clearly startled.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, immediately turning around.

Your face burned. “What’s wrong with you?! Why didn’t you knock?”

“Look, I’m so sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just looking for my t-shirt—”

“Well, I don’t have it,” you shot back, voice sharp. “So go check somewhere else.”

His eyes flickered to something under the covers. A glimpse of soft, familiar fabric.

Wait.

His brows furrowed. “Is that… my t-shirt?”

You shifted uncomfortably, gripping the blanket tighter, but before you could deny it, he added, “No, that’s definitely my shirt.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping lower. That same tone he always had—smooth, effortless—but now it sent heat curling in your stomach.

“Hey,” he murmured, inching toward the bed. “Just stop trying to hide and let me see it…”