FIFTY WAYS TO LEAVE YOUR LOVER,
Okay, maybe not fifty.
Spacegypsy1 disclaims all things disclaimable.
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#1. Laying on his back, hands folded on his chest and staring at the ceiling he listened to her soft, even breathing…and wondered how the hell he was going to get out of here without waking her.
The last two attempts to leave had ended badly; well, not really badly, he had to admit. He'd just found it impossible to get out of her arms, out of her bed. Lying in her arms turned out to be much more than he had ever bargained for.
So here he was, less than an hour away from a diplomatic summit two levels down, not truly wanting to leave.
One leg slid and the foot quietly rested on the floor. The other leg was tangled with hers. In an absurd way, he worried about being discovered. Crazy really. He'd missed his opportunity to whisk her off base two nights earlier because he'd chickened out.
Ever so slowly, he inched his other leg from under hers. She moaned something, flipped over and snuggled under the covers clear across the bed. Damn. Quietly he sat up, rubbed his face, looked back at the lump of her, and with as much stealth as possible he stood.
She didn't move. He could barely see a patch of dark hair sticking up out of the covers. His smile took the sleepiness from his face. Riffling through the BDUs on the floor he found his and dressed. his mind full of wonder and memory.
Last night, he'd escorted her to her quarters after the de-briefing, worried about the large bruise she'd showed him on her hip. Okay, so maybe that flash of pearl hip was more prominent in his mind than the dark circle.
They were all exhausted from the mission, and she'd actually told him she was too tired to talk. He stayed anyway. She told him she was going to bed, he could leave or stay she didn't care. She showed him the bruise again. And he'd kissed it. Gods and Goddesses… he'd kissed her hip.
She cried the first time he made love to her, telling him she had given up all hope of ever being with him. He nearly cried the second time, when she'd whispered words of love and devotion. The third time consisted of laughter and several threats from her as to what would happen if he changed his mind.
But the last time, early this morning, would pleasantly haunt him the rest of his life. He reached for the door, stopped and looked back.
She was sitting up, dark hair a mass of angles and tangles, eyes blinking, mouth slack with sleepiness, the sheet held to her chest. "Daniel?"
He dropped his shoes and jacket on the floor as he returned to her bed.