It was one of your sleepless nights that you find yourself sprawled across a couch in the rec room on base, listlessly staring off into space.

In the thick of Summer, the rec room is the only room on base that has decent air conditioning. The barracks are awful and muggy with the heat of many bodies in such a small space.

As tired as you are, you don't even notice when Price walks by the doorway, only pausing when his dark eyes catch sight of you.

And then you stretch.

As you stretch your arms above your head, your shirt rides up and your navel region is exposed—and so is the tattoo spanning across your lower stomach.

Price inhales sharply at the sight, alerting you to his presence.