I traced my fingers over the sculpted planes of Reid’s abdomen. He had no scars, no birth marks, no blemishes. I could spend all day just admiring him, if only time would allow.
The sun had risen. Bright, early-morning light was cast across our bedroom floor through the panes of the French doors. I could see the rolling hills, brown and some white, peeking through the bars on the balcony. The sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue.
Reid and I were dragging our feet. He hadn’t suggested that we should get ready for the day. We hadn’t checked in with patrol to see how they fared overnight—if there was an emergency, they’d contact us anyway.
I wanted to stay hidden away from the outside world for as long as we could, and it was clear he was on the same page.
Reid laid on his back, one arm
