Page 60 of Chasing Kit

He snorted, and the sound vibrated against my ribs. He must’ve shifted overnight because the blanket was twisted around our ankles and his bare knee was digging a bruise into my thigh. I thought about moving, but according to Derek, Kit never got up before he had to. I didn’t want to ruin his morning by letting him realize he’d just spent over ten hours wrapped around a man who sometimes needed a running start just to get out of bed.

He craned his head back, squinting at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. “It’s not even six. How are you awake?”

“Muscle memory. I slept, which is a win.”

That actually woke him up. He rolled onto his back and blinked at the ceiling, like he was waiting for it to drip blood or cave in or do whatever happened in horror movies when the tension snapped. “You slept?” He said it with the awe of someone who’d just found out his dog could talk.

“Don’t get used to it. Could be an accident.”

Kit smirked. “That’s what you’d say about us, too.” He caught me off guard, and he knew it, so he pushed his luck. “Are you gonna get up or do I have to bribe you with coffee?”

“Coffee sounds nice. Do you even drink the stuff, though?”

“No.” He chuckled. “But maybe I can start.”

“Don’t, it’s a bad habit.”

I pulled myself up on one elbow and watched him flop onto his stomach. There was a faint bruised shadow under both of his eyes, and I assumed it was from the emotional hangover of returning to real life.

He looked so pathetic and sweet at the same time while half asleep that I couldn’t help it, I leaned down and kissed the side of his head, right where the hair parted. He made a surprised “mmf” sound, then laughed. “Morning breath, War. Do you want to die?”

“I’ve smelled worse. You ever bunk with Nitro?”

He shuddered. “Then, I’d really be dead.”

Kit stretched like a cat, arms above his head, which pulled the sheet dangerously low on his back. My shirt had ridden up and the boxers hung low on his hips. I let my eyes wander, enjoying the delicious sight he made. He’d lost all self-consciousness, and I loved this version of him. I wanted him to be comfortable around me as much as I wanted him to wear my clothes because goddamn, he was gorgeous in them.

He looked over his shoulder, trying to catch my expression. “Are you, like, okay? Because last night you kind of⁠—”

“I’m fine,” I said, maybe too fast. “You don’t have to check.”

Kit didn’t argue. He knew better. Instead, he poked my shoulder. “Can we make waffles? Or am I supposed to eat protein bars until I wither away?”

“We can try.” I raised my eyebrows. “Don’t blame me if the fire department gets called. Waffles is something I can’t say I’m the best at.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

I didn’t answer. Making waffles couldn’t be too hard, right? I didn’t make a habit of eating them, so I wasn’t entirely sure. I got up, peeled off the blanket, and walked down the stairs to the tiny apartment kitchen to see what damage awaited. Kit padded after me, feet slapping the tile, all long limbs and sleepy eyes that made my heart go soft and crumbly.

He rummaged through the pantry until he found the emergency jar of Nutella, then brandished it like a rare artifact. Which it might be because I’d forgotten I had it in there. Nitro had brought the jar over a few months ago when he was going through a family drama, but he hadn’t even opened it. “You wanna go for the main course or pretend to be healthy first?”

“Coffee, then Nutella. Order matters.”

He scooped a spoonful and pointed it at me, chocolate glistening. “You sure you don’t want dessert first?”

“You do remember I’m former navy, right? I like putting real food in my body.”

He laughed and nodded toward me, making a show of licking his lips. “Can’t forget when you look like that.”

I glanced at him as I grabbed my favorite chipped coffee mug, the one with faded blue stripes and a hairline crack near the handle. “I could snap you in half.”

His eyes went all shiny. “Yes, please. When do we start?”

I snorted.

He plopped on the counter and watched me fiddle with the ancient coffeemaker, which groaned and hissed like it was haunted. Kit followed my every move. I could feel his stare, hot on my neck.

It was so domestic I wanted to laugh or maybe punch a wall just to break the illusion before I got too attached. I told myself he was staying and he was safe with my heart.