Morning light moved across the bed the way it always did.
Atlas woke first to the solid weight of Lara still half on top of him. One of her legs was thrown over his. Her hand rested on his chest like it belonged there and had no intention of moving.
The sheets smelled of them—sweat, sex, the particular scent that only showed up after a night like the one they had just finished. New marks sat over the older ones on his shoulders and throat. Lara's thighs still carried the faint imprint of his hands.
She stirred when he shifted. Her eyes opened. The gold flecks in them were clear even in the soft light. For a moment she just looked at him. The same absolute claim from the night before was still there in her expression. Then she leaned in and kissed him, slow and thorough, before she sat up.
"They're going to know the second they see us," she said.
"They already expected it," Atlas answered.
