The floor creaked when you moved, a warning he didn’t need—Tamsy was already awake. He cracked one eye open, watching you tug your shirt back on as the dim light from the window spilled across your shoulders.

“You always bolt like I’m contagious,” he muttered, voice still hoarse from sleep.

You glanced over your shoulder. “You’re still here. That’s contagious enough.”

The corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk, though it didn’t quite hide the way his chest tightened. He should’ve left hours ago. They both knew that. But the mattress was still warm, and so were you.

“Maybe I like the view,” he said, propping himself up on an elbow.

“Maybe you’re getting too comfortable,” you shot back.

Your tone was sharp, but your eyes lingered a beat too long when you looked at him. That beat was all he needed. He caught your wrist before you could move away.

“Tamsy—” you started, warning in your voice.

But he pulled you closer, close enough for the air to shift, close enough that your breath hitched. He didn’t give room for rules or second thoughts. He just kissed you—deep, steady, certain.