Chapter 139
Claire's POV
Morning came too soon. I woke to a dull ache between my legs, a fullness that hadn't been there when I fell asleep. Daniel was still behind me, his body pressed close, and I realized what had stirred me—his morning hardness, a natural reaction he couldn't control. My lips curled into a small smile as I turned my head slightly, catching his gaze. His eyes were already open, watching me with a quiet intensity.
"Hey," I whispered, my voice rough from sleep. I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. His lips were warm, tasting faintly of salt, and he kissed me back, gentle at first.
"Morning," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Did you sleep okay?"
"Better than I have in days," I admitted.
The tenderness didn't last. His hand slid up my side, gripping my hip as he started to move, slow thrusts that made my breath catch. Each roll of his hips sent a shiver through me, the heat building again.
"You feel so good," I whispered, reaching back to touch his face. "So deep like this."
I could feel the roughness of his calloused fingers against my skin, the faint scratch of his stubble as he kissed down my neck.
"Missed this," he murmured against my skin. "Missed you."
After a few minutes, he stopped, his chest rising and falling hard. "I've gotta get up," he said, his voice tight with restraint. "Work to do. The team's waiting."
I nodded, though disappointment tugged at me. "I get it."
"Rain check?" he asked, his voice softening.
"Definitely," I replied, squeezing his hand.
He pulled away carefully, leaving an empty ache where he'd been. I watched as he sat up, running a hand through his short hair, his back to me. I couldn't help myself—I moved behind him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, pressing my chest to his back. His muscles tensed under my touch, but he didn't pull away.
"Claire," he started, his tone warning. "I really need to go."
"Don't," I cut him off, my voice soft but firm. "Just… not yet." I rested my chin on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt. "One more minute."
In that moment, I made a choice. Here, in this messed-up place, I wasn't going to overthink the past or the future. I'd take whatever time I had with him and hold onto it. No regrets, not now.
"You're making this harder," he sighed, but his hand came up to cover mine.
"That's kind of the point," I teased, and felt his short laugh rumble through his chest.
We stayed like that for a few more seconds before he gently disentangled himself. "I'll be back later," he said, standing and grabbing his gear. "Stay here. Don't wander around alone. Joey's guys are still pissed."
"Yes, Captain," I mock-saluted, earning an eye roll.
I nodded, watching him leave, the door clicking shut behind him. The room felt colder without him, but my resolve didn't waver. I'd meant what I decided.
---
Alone now, I got up, stretching my stiff limbs. My eyes landed on Daniel's backpack in the corner, his clothes and gear scattered nearby. I figured I'd tidy up a bit—something to keep my hands busy.
"Men," I muttered, picking up his discarded socks. "Apparently organization isn't part of his training."
I folded his shirts, the fabric worn but clean, smelling faintly of him. As I reached into the backpack to store some items, my fingers brushed against a hidden pocket. Curious, I unzipped it and froze.
Inside were two pairs of women's underwear. My underwear. One black, lace-trimmed, from the first night I'd stayed at his apartment in Seattle. I'd left it there, told him to keep it. The other, a nude pair, stained from a morning we'd spent tangled together—I'd tossed it at him with a laugh, saying it was his now. My heart pounded as I held them up, the fabric soft between my fingers. He'd kept them. Carried them with him, even here, in a war zone.
"What the hell?" I whispered to myself, turning the black pair over in my hands. "He actually kept them all this time?"
The door opened suddenly, and I turned to see Daniel standing there, his expression shifting from surprise to something close to panic. His eyes flicked to the items in my hand, and a flush crept up his neck, reddening the tips of his ears.
"Claire, I—" he started, then stopped, clearly at a loss.
I dangled the black pair by a finger, spinning it slightly with a smirk. "Look what I found. Care to explain why my panties are in your bag?" I tilted my head, my voice teasing but sharp. "Captain, have you been using these to get off?"
"I wasn't—that's not—" he stumbled over his words, looking more flustered than I'd ever seen him.
His jaw tightened, and he looked away for a split second before meeting my gaze again. He didn't speak, but the way his face softened, the sheepish glint in his eyes—it was as good as a confession. My smirk faded into genuine surprise. I hadn't expected him to admit it, even silently.
"So it's true," I said, my tone softer now. "You really did."
"Daniel," I started, stepping closer, the underwear still in my hand. "You really—"
"Drop it, Claire," he interrupted, his voice gruff, almost pleading. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my stare. "Just… put them back. It's not what you think."
"Then what is it?" I challenged. "Because it looks like you've been carrying my underwear around like some kind of... trophy. Or souvenir."
"It's not like that," he said, finally meeting my eyes. "It's complicated."
I studied him, the way his shoulders hunched slightly, the awkward warmth in his expression. My chest tightened with something I couldn't name. I folded the fabric and slipped it back into the pocket, zipping it shut. "Fine," I said, keeping my tone light. "But we're not done talking about this."
He shot me a look, half annoyed, half resigned, and I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped. Even in this hellhole of a place, with danger lurking outside, there was something absurdly normal about this moment. Something that made me feel alive.
"Later," he promised, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Maybe."