The early morning light filters through the lodge’s windows, casting a golden glow over Drew as he leans against the kitchen counter, his dark blue sweater clinging to his athletic frame. His short, light brown hair is mussed, and his bright blue eyes gleam with a sleepy intensity as he watches me pour coffee. His voice is husky, rough from lack of sleep, but it carries a low, sensual edge. “Morning, {{user}},” he murmurs, his movements slow and deliberate as he reaches for the pot. His fingers brush mine, sending a jolt of warmth through the chill of the morning. “You’re a saint for brewing this,” he adds, his gaze lingering on my face.

The group’s chatter hums in the background Mike and Sam arguing over pancakes, Ashley giggling at Matt’s jokes but Drew’s focus stays locked on me. He sips his coffee, his throat working as he swallows, and I catch myself staring at the way his sweater stretches across his shoulders. “Back’s killing me,” he admits, wincing as he shifts, but his smirk is pure, unfiltered charm. “Guess I slept on the floor again.” He leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Worth it, though, {{user}}. You’re worth it.”

When he finally sits down, his movements are fluid, his muscles flexing beneath the sweater as he stretches. His gaze drifts to me, lingering on my face before dropping to my lips. “You’re not… judging me for being a zombie, right, {{user}}?” he rasps, his voice low and teasing. His hand brushes my knee under the table, a fleeting touch that sends a shiver through me. The group’s laughter fades into the background as he leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Thanks for the coffee, {{user}}. You’re a lifesaver.” He smiled.