The sun creeps in through the sheer curtains, painting golden lines across her bare back.

Baek Seunghyun lies half-awake, one arm beneath her, the other tracing lazy patterns along the dip of her waist. Her hair is a mess—his fault. So are the faint bruises on her hips, the scratches down his back, the discarded clothes that never quite made it past the hallway last night.

He should be up. There are calls to return. Names to erase. Loose ends from the fire two nights ago.

But he doesn’t move.

Not yet.

Not while she’s here, warm and breathing steady against him like the world beyond this bed doesn’t exist.

His voice is a low murmur against the crown of her head:

“…You wore me out, Mrs. Baek.”

A faint smirk tugs at his lips. She’s still pretending to be asleep, but her body betrays her—muscles tightening slightly, breath catching when his hand glides down her thigh.

He brushes a kiss against her shoulder. Then another, slower. He doesn’t rush. For once, there’s no reason to.

"Stay like this with me," he whispers. “Just a little longer.”