Ravnáriel the Fire Mage

“Mmm,” you breathed in protest, eyes still closed.

“I know,” he murmured against your shoulder. “Too early.”

His voice was lower than usual, softened at the edges in a way only you ever got to hear. No careful composure standing between him and the world. Just Ray, solid and bare behind you, his palm smoothing over your hip after what must have been a while spent awake, deciding that if he had to pull you from sleep before a civilized hour, he was going to make it worth waking for.

You smiled faintly into the pillow. “Is it?”

“For you?” His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Tragically.”

The sensation made you squirm before you could stop yourself, your chin tucking toward your shoulder as a tiny giggle slipped out of you, breathy and still half-asleep. Ray’s arm held you close, keeping you tucked against him while his mouth followed the movement, kissing along the side of your neck where he knew you were sensitive.

“So why are you waking me up?”

“Because we have somewhere to be.”

That should have made you suspicious. It would have, if his mouth hadn’t moved lower again, pulling a shallow breath from you while every other thought scattered before you could hold onto it.

“Somewhere can wait,” you mumbled.

Ray’s breath touched your neck, and you felt the faint curve of his mouth against your skin. “Not indefinitely.”

He kissed the spot where your pulse had quickened, trailing back toward your jaw as though he had all the time in the world, despite whatever plans he was keeping from you. His hand moved from your waist to your hip and back again, a steady, reassuring touch that made you relax against him.

“You sound like a man with plans.”

“I am a man with plans.”

“On my birthday?”

“For your birthday.”

You meant to open your eyes at that, but his touch, so gentle and deliberate, distracted you before you could. Ray had never been careless with you, not with his hands, not with his affection, not with the pieces of himself he gave so gradually—so carefully—that you sometimes forgot how much he had already handed over.

His fingers traced over of your stomach, lower now, possessive without being demanding. His mouth found the side of your throat again, lingering there while he drew you closer, your back fitting against his broad chest. The sound he made rumbled through him and into you, barely heard but impossible to miss. Your body answered before you were awake enough to pretend otherwise, hips shifting into the cradle of his palm as a sleepy little sound slipped from your throat.

Your eyes finally opened, though the world stayed small for one last breath, held between Ray’s hand on your body, his mouth at your skin, and the solid shape of him behind you. Slowly, your gaze drifted toward the nightstand, landing on the fresh bouquet waiting there in a simple glass vase.

Your favorite flowers, full and lovely without feeling staged, arranged with smaller blooms in colors you loved. The stems were gathered with a satin ribbon tied neatly around the middle, simple and exact in a way that felt unmistakably like him. He hadn’t chosen the biggest arrangement or the most expensive, only the right one.

His lips brushed your shoulder again, his voice low and close enough to send a swoop through your belly.

“Happy birthday, darling.”

The words settled over you, not an announcement so much as a touch all their own. You blinked at the bouquet, at the ribbon around the stems, at the exact colors he had chosen, and your chest gave a helpless little squeeze before you could stop it.

“Oh,” you whispered.

Ray’s hand stilled against your stomach.

You turned your head enough to look at him. His eyes were already on you, blue and unguarded without his glasses, clearer in the morning light as he watched for your reaction with the satisfaction of a man who had been looking forward to this moment far more than he would ever admit aloud.

“You got my favorite flowers.”

“Of course.”

The answer was so simple that it caught somewhere beneath your ribs. He said it so easily, remembering the shape of your joy as though it required no effort at all, because to Ray, there had never been any other option but to know you that well.

You blinked, emotion rising before you could stop it, and Ray’s expression shifted immediately. His hand came up to your face, knuckles brushing gently along your cheek.

“No tears yet,” he said softly. “It’s barely begun.”

“Yet?”

His mouth curved, pleased in the private way that made your chest ache. “You’ll need to pace yourself.”

You huffed a small laugh, but he caught it with his mouth before it could fully leave you, his lips gentle at first before turning firmer when you angled into him in an effort to get closer. The faint scrape of his beard brushed over your mouth as his tongue slid against yours, coaxing you open with that same careful intent he brought to everything else. The kiss deepened naturally, familiar and devastating all at once.

Your hands found him beneath the sheets, sliding over his shoulders, his chest, anywhere you could reach as he drew you in and settled over you. Bare skin met bare skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your palm, the weight of him enough to make the rest of the room fall away.

He kissed you like he could feel every little place you gave in to him, the surrender of your mouth, the lift of your hips, the gasp you tried to swallow when his tongue moved deeper.

Ray had woken you with his mouth on your skin, with flowers waiting on the nightstand, and now he seemed intent on making this the first real gift of the day too, the thorough pleasure of being loved until there was nothing left in your head but him.

You sighed against his mouth as the hard length of him pressed between your thighs, and Ray drew back only enough to see you, close enough that his breath still touched your lips. His hair was mussed from your fingers, his eyes gone a shade deeper now, the blue sharpened by want as he looked over your face.

You could feel how badly he wanted you, the thick press of him against your slick skin, restrained only because he knew you liked the slow ruin of it all.

His palm pressed into your leg as he eased it higher over his hip, opening you to him more. Ray noticed the eager tilt of your hips, the way you opened wider around him, the involuntary pull of your breath when he dragged the blunt head of his cock through the needy wet of you.

He didn’t rush to give you what you wanted. Instead, he slid through your cunt with maddening control, brushing over your clit just enough to make your body tense beneath him before easing back, drawing the want out until it bloomed deep and aching.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, your mouth parting beneath his when the next pass stole the air from your lungs. Ray kissed you through it, lips plush, tongue coaxing, the faint shape of his smile brushing yours when your hips lifted to chase him.

He knew. And that was the infuriating part. He knew exactly what he was doing to you—from the tremor in your legss and the way your breath thinned when he teased the head of his cock against your entrance without pushing in. His hand settled at your hip, keeping you close as he gave you just enough pressure to make your body flutter around nothing, pulling back before you could take him.

“Ray,” you whined, half warning, half plea.

His mouth brushed the corner of yours, pleased and far too satisfied. “I know.”

 His eyes stayed on your face while he teased you, the last of his composure held together by sheer will and the pleasure he took in watching yours unravel.

“You’re impatient this morning,” he noted, voice low against your mouth.

“You woke me up,” you protested, your bottom lip pushing out in a sleepy pout.

“I did.”

“So do something about it.”

That pulled a rough sound from him, more want than amusement. His fingers pressed into your hip as he kissed you again, stealing the rest of your complaint while he settled against your entrance.

Your pout vanished into a trembling exhale as he finally sank into you, and Ray stayed close enough to take the sound into his mouth. He watched you through it, eyes fixed on your face as your lips parted and your lashes fluttered as your body adjusted around him. He took his time, almost cruel in his patience, making sure you felt every inch of him.

“Christ,” he groaned, the word barely making it out.

Your legs locked around his hips as he pressed deeper, taking his time until he was fully inside you. His eyes shut while he steadied himself, the polished control he carried so easily everywhere else thinning to almost nothing at the wet, heated feel of you around him.

You shifted just enough to take him deeper, and his whole body went taut. Another rough sound caught in his throat, his mouth brushing yours without quite kissing you. He had teased you for so long, made you needy for him, but now that he had you, now that he was buried inside you and fighting himself for patience, the waiting was ruining him too.

Your hands slid over his back, feeling the flex of muscle beneath your touch as he finally rolled his hips into you with enough purpose to sink you deeper into the sheets and pull a broken sound from your throat.

Ray did it again, finding a rhythm that narrowed the world to his body over yours and the delicious drag of his cock inside you. His chest pressed to yours, his mouth moved from your lips to your cheek, your jaw, your throat, kissing wherever he could reach as his composure started to fray.

You felt everything he gave—his weight over you, the flex of his hips and all the rough little sounds he made whenever you clenched around him. Each thrust reached deep enough to scatter whatever thoughts you had left, and when your nails dragged down his back, his pace faltering briefly before he caught himself.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed against your neck.

Your hips titled to meet him, and the change in angle made your mouth fall open, pleasure flashing brightly behind your eyes. Ray felt you tighten around him, felt the tremor move through you, your nails pressing into his back as you tried desperately to keep him right there.

His grip shifted lower on your thigh, guiding you into him while he did it again.

“There?” he asked, though the look on his face said he already knew.

You nodded, too far gone to make it graceful, begging him not to move away from that spot.

Ray pressed into you deeper this time, his control thinning with every sound he drew out of you. He’d always known how to make restraint feel filthy, how to make patience its own kind of indulgence.

His touch moved down your side, over the dip of your waist and the curve of your hip, fingers pressing there to pull you into the next thrust. His eyes stayed on you, hunger cutting through the last of his composure as your body drew around him again.

“Darling,” he groaned against your throat. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

The praise went through you in a swirling rush, your cunt closing around him hard enough to pull the air from his chest. Ray’s hand flexed at your hip, his composure catching on a rough sound before his mouth found yours again, hungry and less careful than before.

“That’s it,” he breathed against your lips. “You take me so well.”

You turned your face into him, overwhelmed by the gentleness as much as the pleasure. Him inside you, the scrape of his beard along your skin, the devotion in the way he kept looking at you. It was too much and not enough, your body aching for more even as he gave you everything.

Ray shifted just enough to make you whimper, his hips still working into you as he slipped between your bodies and found your clit. Your back arched at the first touch, a sharp cry catching in your throat before his mouth covered yours, swallowing it down like he wanted to keep it for himself.

 “That’s where you need me, isn’t it?”

All you could manage was another frantic nod, fingers curling at the back of his neck as the room filled with the sounds of your pleasure.

He moved with steady purpose, thumb circling your clit while he drove into you with the same focused restraint that had been ruining you all morning. Pleasure gathered heavy and insistent, swelling with every thrust. You held his gaze as long as you could, watching his composure slip in small, beautiful increments, until he angled his hips just right, pressing deeper, dragging against the spot that made your whole body seize beneath him.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, voice strained. “Come for me.”

The words pushed you right to the edge, your nails digging into his back as your body wound around him. For one desperate second, you hovered there, caught on the drag of his cock inside you, the steady pressure of his thumb, the sound of him losing control above you, and then it broke.

It hit you in a full-body rush, clamping around him as pleasure tore through you in waves. You cried out his name, and Ray groaned into your skin, his pace stuttering before he caught himself and gave you more, pushing you through it while your cunt fluttered around him.

You felt him start to slip, jaw clenched near your cheek, his control fraying with every pulse of your body around his. His mouth stayed on your skin, rough kisses pressed wherever he could reach, less careful with each one.

His hips drove deeper, rougher now, chasing what he had held back too long. A guttural groan dragged from his chest as he buried his face against your neck, body crowding yours with a need that felt almost frantic after so much restraint.

You were still shaking when his hand locked at your thigh, pulling you into him through one thrust, then the next, before he held himself as deep as your body would take him. His body went rigid over yours, shoulders tense beneath your hands, mouth open against your throat as he came with a broken sound. You felt him pulse inside you, the hot spill of his release filling your cunt as his hips pressed in with one last helpless grind, like even that deep, he still needed more.

“Fuck,” he breathed, your name following after, wrecked.

The sensation made you whimper, still too sensitive, still clenching around him in little aftershocks that dragged a rough sound from his chest. Ray’s mouth moved against your skin, not quite a kiss, more like he needed somewhere to put the force of it while his body shuddered once above yours.

He stayed buried inside you, his body covering yours as both of you came down in the gray morning light. Your fingers traced weakly over the back of his neck, feeling the damp heat of his skin, the uneven rise and fall of his breath. Ray pressed a kiss to your shoulder, lips lingering warm on your skin, because he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave you yet.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured against your skin, voice satisfied and ruined.

You laughed weakly, still trying to come back to yourself. “You’re very pleased with yourself.”

Ray’s eyes flicked to yours, gentled by something private. “No.”

“No?”

His thumb brushed over your cheek, his gaze moving over your face with the kind of attention that made you feel seen down to the smallest, most hidden parts of yourself. “I’m pleased I got to have you like that.”

Your heart did something stupid in your chest.

Before you could answer, he kissed you, lingering just long enough to ruin whatever clever thing you might have said. Eventually, he slipped from the bed and disappeared, returning a few moments later to get you cleaned up with the same tender care he gave everything that involved you.

When he left the room again, you heard movement beyond the bedroom, then the low clink of ceramic. He came back shortly with a fresh cup of coffee in your favorite mug, steam curling above the rim as he crossed the room in nothing but lounge trousers, his glasses back on now, the only real sign that the day had started when neither of you had quite left the bed.

You looked at the cup, then at him.

Ray settled beside you, body angled toward yours against the pillows, close enough that his fingers trailed absently over the ends of your hair while you drank your coffee and admired the bouquet again, bright and fresh against the rumpled mess of the room, your favorite flowers arranged with such precise care that it almost hurt to look at them.

You took a sip, the coffee rich and perfect on your tongue, exactly how you liked it. It settled something in you even as the rest of you remained a little undone from the way he had woken you. Ray’s fingers moved through your hair with an absent affection. Even after having you, even after coaxing every sleepy sound out of you, he still seemed to need some small point of contact.

Your gaze drifted lazily across the room, over the bouquet on the nightstand, to the clothes you had discarded the night before in your rush to get your hands on him. The memory tugged a smirk from you before your attention moved on, landing near the bedroom door, where both of your suitcases stood neatly against the wall.

The smirk faded into suspicion as you took another sip of coffee, because dignity felt important in the face of whatever he had clearly already done. With as much nonchalance as you could manage while sitting naked beneath the sheets after being loved senseless before breakfast, you lowered the mug.

“Ray?”

Beside you, his fingers paused in your hair for half a second.

“Darling?”

“Why is our luggage out?”

Ray remained relaxed against the pillows, his face calm in a way that only made you more suspicious. His fingers resumed their path through your hair, the touch so easy and affectionate you almost thought he could soothe the question right out of you.

“Oh,” he said, with the careful casualness of a man who had been waiting for this exact moment. “That’s part of your birthday surprise. I did tell you we had somewhere to be.”

Surprise flickered through you, cutting through the last haze of the morning. “I thought we were just going to brunch?”

“We are.”

You turned your head slowly and stared at him.

Ray finally glanced at you, and there it was, that infuriating little shift at the corner of his mouth. Just enough to tell you he had been waiting all morning for you to notice and enjoying himself far too much now that you had.

“Why do you sound like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like brunch has logistics.”

His expression softened, though the amusement stayed tucked in his eyes. “It does, in this case.”

“Raymond.”

He looked entirely too fond of you for a man currently refusing to explain the suitcases by the door.

You sat up a little straighter, the sheet shifting around your chest as you held your coffee with both hands. “What did you do?”

Ray reached over and took the mug from you before answering, setting it safely on the bedside table. Leaning in, he placed a kiss to your cheek before settling back against the pillows.

That made your suspicion deepen.

“Oh, absolutely not,” you protested. “You only take things out of my hands when you think I’m about to drop them.”

“I’ve known you long enough to know better.”

You gave him a look. “Long enough to know I need an explanation.”

He shifted toward you, one knee bending on the mattress as his hand found yours, his thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles, not to distract you this time, but to steady you before he gave you the truth.

“You once told me you wanted to have brunch on the Amalfi Coast.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. For a moment, the words just sat there between you, too lovely and impossible to make sense of.

Ray kept his eyes on you, voice soft and even, almost too gentle for the way your heart had suddenly started to beat.

“More specifically, you wanted a giant waffle with whipped cream and fresh strawberries,” he continued. “Mimosas. Blue water. Lemon trees. The sort of view that makes you feel insufferable for getting to sit in it.”

You blinked at him, still trying to make the words fit together. “I said that ages ago.”

“You did.”

“I was kidding.”

“No,” he said, thumb moving over the back of your hand. “You were wishing.”

You could only stare at him, trying to absorb the fact that he had taken one silly, impossible thing you said offhand, turning it into reality.

“Ray,” you breathed out, and something in his face changed at the sound of it.

“The bags are packed. The plane is ready. There will be a car here soon, and another waiting when we land.”

He lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, holding your gaze over them. “You don’t have to think about a single thing today unless you want to.”

The words barely made it past the emotion in your throat. “You’re taking me to Italy today?”

“For brunch,” he answered, pleased enough with himself not to bother hiding it. “Among other things.”

A shaky laugh slipped out of you, full of wonder. “You are unbelievable.”

“I suppose I’ve been called worse.”

“Raymond.”

His fingers curled around yours, steadying without crowding, already there to meet the emotion gathering in your chest before it could overwhelm you.

“I wanted you to have it.”

You looked down at your joined hands because his face was suddenly too much. The life he had already given you, and now this, all of it gathered in your chest so quickly you barely had time to swallow it down.

When you looked up again, Ray was watching you with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

His thumb brushed beneath your eye before the tear could fall, his expression changing the second he caught it. Leaning in, he kissed the damp place his thumb had touched. “I wondered when this might happen.”

You gave a watery laugh, catching his wrist as tears gathered again. “Don’t.”

“I’m not making light of it.” His voice lost every trace of amusement, his mouth lingering close to your cheek. “Not when it matters this much.”

You looked at him, helpless beneath the weight of it all. The suitcases by the door, the flowers, the coffee, the certainty of him sitting beside you like flying you to Italy for brunch was simply a thing that happened when he loved someone.

“I just…” You shook your head, overwhelmed all over again. “I don’t know what to do with this.”

All you could do was look at him, your chest too full for anything else.

“I hear the things you wish for before you decide they’re too much.” His gaze held yours, calm and devastating. “They all matter to me.”

You had to swallow before you could say his name. “Ray.”

“I love you,” he said, as simple as it was ruinous. “And I have no interest in letting you spend your life pretending you don’t want things just because you’ve learned not to ask for them.”

That hit way too deep for you to even answer.

He kissed your forehead, lingering there. “So yes, darling. When you want something, even if it’s fleeting, I’m going to notice.” He stayed close, mouth still touching your skin as he spoke. “And when I can, I’m going to give it to you.”

That was the part that undid you most. Not the money, the planning, or the impossible ease with which Ray seemed to make entire countries available to him. It was the fact that he listened so closely. That he knew the difference between a throwaway joke and a want you never expected anyone to take seriously.

You tucked your face into the side of his neck, pressing closer as your eyes filled all over again. “This is extravagant.”

His hand moved over your back, steady and affectionate. “I prefer efficient.”

You pulled back enough to look at him. “You are not calling a surprise trip to Italy efficient.”

“It has been arranged with very little inconvenience to you.” He adjusted his glasses at the frame, the gesture so composed it nearly made the whole thing worse, though you could still hear the smile in his voice. “That does seem to qualify.”

The restrained amusement in his face nearly made you cry all over again. It was such a Ray answer, precise and dry and entirely too calm for a man who had just announced he was flying you across Europe for waffles.

Your gaze slid toward the luggage again. “When did you even pack?”

“This morning.”

“You packed my suitcase this morning?”

“I did.”

“Ray.”

“You have options.”

“That is not what I’m worried about.”

“I know what you like.”

You gave him a look, though the smile already tugging at your mouth made it difficult to look truly accusing. “You know what I like, or you know what you like seeing me in?”

His eyes moved over your face with open appreciation. “Both.”

The answer was too honest to be smug, too tender to be anything but devastating.

You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile wider. “And what if I wanted to pack something else?”

“We’ll buy it there.”

“That is not a normal solution.”

“No,” he agreed, “but it is a solution.”

You laughed for real this time, the sound loosening the heaviness in your chest. Ray’s expression changed with visible satisfaction, that unmistakable pleasure he took in making you laugh, in watching the emotion ease out of you until it became something lighter.

He slid his fingers through your hair once more, then let his hand rest at the back of your neck. “We need to leave in an hour.”

“An hour?!” You looked down at yourself before giving him a pointed look. “I’m naked.”

“I had noticed.”

“Ray!” you chided, trying to sound scandalized and failing completely.

“I’m only saying it has not escaped my attention.”

You swatted his chest, but he caught your hand and kissed your palm before letting it go.

“You have time,” he said. “Shower. Dress. Panic a little, if you must.”

“I’m not panicking.”

His eyes flicked briefly to the luggage and back to you.

“I’m processing,” you corrected before he could say anything.

“Of course.”

“Don’t of course me.”

His mouth did that barely-there thing again, amusement tucked into one corner, trying to behave and failing only because he adored you too much.

You looked at him for a long second before reaching for your coffee. Ray handed it to you before you even had to lean, and the ease of that small gesture made your heart squeeze, almost as much as everything else he had done.

You took a sip, watching him over the rim of your mug. “You really planned a whole trip around waffles?”

“And mimosas,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “And the view.”

“Oh.” Your smile turned almost whimsical as the thought of it settled over you. “The insufferable one?”

“The very one.”

There was something about the way he said it that made the whole thing ache again. Not because of the plane or the coast waiting across the water, but because he had listened. He had remembered. He had taken one passing wish from your mouth and built a birthday gift around it, not because he needed to prove he could, but because loving you had made him want to.

You set the mug down carefully and moved into his lap.

Ray accepted you without hesitation, hands finding your hips as you settled over him beneath the loose tangle of sheets. His head tipped back against the headboard, eyes lifting to yours, and for a moment neither of you said anything. The bouquet breathed sweetness into the room, the morning sitting pale and still around you, his hands steady at your waist even before he drew you closer.

“You’re meant to be getting ready,” he reminded you.

“I know.”

“And yet.”

“And yet,” you echoed, sliding your arms around his shoulders.

His hands moved up your sides, thumbs brushing your ribs. “Have I overwhelmed you?”

The question was gentle enough to make your heart somersault.

“A little,” you admitted, touching his face before concern could settle in. “In the good way. The way where I don’t know what to do with all of it yet.”

Ray’s hands settled more firmly around you. “You don’t have to do anything with it.”

“I do.”

“No.” He kissed you once, soft and brief. “You only have to let me give it to you.”

Your eyes held his before you dipped your lips to his, kissing him long enough that his hands drew you closer at the waist. When you pulled back, the emotion was still there, sitting high in your chest, but excitement had started breaking through it now, giddy and impossible to contain as the reality of what he had done finally sank in.

You took his face in both hands before he could retreat into all that careful composure, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as the coarse edge of his beard scratched softly against your palms. You looked at him like there was no possible way to love him more and still, somehow, you did.

“You extraordinary, gorgeous man,” you said, kissing him again, quick and happy this time, your smile ruining the shape of it before you could help yourself. “I love you. God, Ray, I love you so much it’s ridiculous.”

His smile came slowly before it broke wide enough to change his whole face. The corner of his mouth lifted, his beard shifting with it, blue eyes creasing at the edges as he looked up at you with helpless fondness. He looked almost bashful, pleased in a way he couldn’t hide.

And that only made it worse.

“Thank you. For all of it,” you told him, kissing him again because you couldn’t seem to stop. “For listening. For remembering. For being completely insane in the most romantic way possible. For making my life feel this beautiful.”

His thumb brushed along your side. “You haven’t seen all of it yet.”

Your exhale came out a little dazed. “There’s more?”

“It’s your birthday.”

You rested your forehead against his, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face even with all that emotion still caught behind your ribs. “One hour?”

He nodded, and your eyes fluttered shut for a second as you let yourself picture it: blue water, sunlight, drinks by the coast, Ray across from you in sunglasses, calm as anything, pretending this was a reasonable way to spend a morning simply because you had once wished for it.

When you opened your eyes, he was watching you.

“You’re doing that thing.” Your voice came out quieter than you meant it to.

“What thing?”

“Looking at me like that.”

His gaze held yours, unguarded and fond. “I like watching you receive things.”

Your breath caught a little, and he must have seen it, because his hand came up to touch your cheek.

“You spend a great deal of time convincing yourself you don’t need much,” he continued. “I don’t care for it.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“No,” he agreed. “Because I love you.”

The simplicity of it stole the teasing right off your tongue.

Ray kissed you before the moment could turn too heavy, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. You melted into him for one breath, then two, before he pulled back with visible restraint.

“Shower,” he reminded you, though he didn’t sound especially pleased about it.

You pouted. “You’re sending me away?”

“I’m ensuring we make the flight.”

“You’re very committed to these waffles.”

He chuckled. “I’m committed to you having the exact birthday I promised myself I’d give you.”

You pointed at him, blinking quickly. “You have got to stop saying things like that.”

“I’ll try.”

“You won’t.”

“No,” he replied, kissing your fingertip. “I won’t.”

You climbed off his lap and out of bed reluctantly, Ray’s eyes following you across the room with enough interest to make you feel it down your spine. There was nothing subtle about the look on his face, no polite appreciation, no easy restraint. Just his dark, intent focus moving over you until he blinked hard, once, and again, reminding himself there was somewhere else to be. You made it halfway across the bedroom before glancing back, very aware that if you stood there naked for a minute longer, neither of you was making that flight.

“Ray.”

“Hm?” His brows lifted, innocent in a way that didn’t suit him at all.

“Stop looking at me like that. We have logistics.”

That got a real laugh out of him, fuller than you expected, and you were still smiling when you stepped into the en suite.

Behind you, the bed shifted, followed by the sound of him moving through the room, already turning the morning back toward the plan ahead. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, flushed, thoroughly loved, and still not entirely convinced you’d heard him right.

Your birthday had barely begun, yet somehow Ray had already made it feel like the kind of day you would remember for the rest of your life.