UNBROKEN PROMISE

~77~Whistling

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room and painting everything in a soft, tender glow. Inside, the air was warm, heavy with the quiet intimacy of shared breath and body heat.

Oma stirred slowly, her lashes fluttering as she stretched with a quiet yawn. Her body felt different, relaxed in a way that was new, pleasantly sore, a lingering warmth curling in her belly. As she turned to her side, her breath caught. Logan was still there, lying next to her, his face softened in sleep. His dark lashes rested against his cheek, his lips parted slightly, and one arm was possessively draped around her waist.

Her heart did a slow, skipping flip.

She took a breath, trying to steady herself, but it was no use. Her face flushed, color rising all the way to the tips of her ears as last night's memories came rushing back in a tide, his hands, his voice, the weight of him, the way he'd looked at her.

She was still bare beneath the blankets. And so was he.

Oma's hand inched toward the edge of the covers, gently. She thought maybe she should slip away quietly, give them both some space to breathe. But as soon as she shifted, Logan's arm tightened around her waist, anchoring her to him with gentle firmness.

His lips brushed her cheek. A sleepy, unhurried kiss.

Then his voice, low and raspy from sleep, warm against her skin. "Mornin', darlin'."

Her heart fluttered again, betraying her with how fast it beat at just those two words. She swallowed, then whispered, "Morning."

Logan opened his eyes, that familiar mischief lighting in them, softened now by affection. He gave her a crooked, lazy smile that somehow made her stomach turn to liquid.

"Where d'you think you're runnin' off to this early?" he murmured, his voice teasing, his drawl thick and slow.

She shook her head quickly, lips twitching into a small, shy smile. "I wasn't... just thought I'd..."

But Logan was already kissing her cheek again, then the curve of her jaw, slow and deliberate.

"Did you sleep alright?"

Oma nodded, voice catching. "I did."

"No nightmares?" he asked, this time with more gravity.

She looked into his eyes and gave another nod. "No nightmares."

He grinned, boyish and utterly unguarded. "Well, that's somethin'."

And then his hand slipped under the blanket, down to her bottom. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles across the soft skin, and she tensed, letting out a breathy, startled, "Logan."

He didn't stop. He only smiled more, rubbing softly. "You're real soft, y'know that?"

Her head ducked against his chest, face blazing.

Logan let out a slow breath and pulled her closer still, pressing her bare body against his. "I can't believe I waited this long," he murmured, his voice thick with something deeper than just sleep. Regret, maybe. Wonder. "I was a fool, Oma."

She lifted her head, just a bit, to look at him.

"But I swear," he said, brushing his lips against her temple, "you won't forget how special you are to me. Not a single day. I'll make sure of it."

Oma's eyes filled with tears that didn't fall. Just shimmered with the weight of emotion.

"You don't have to say all that," she whispered.

"I do," he said, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes. "I want to."

And then he kissed her not hurried, not lustful. Just a kiss that felt like a promise. The beginning of something real. When they finally pulled apart, he nudged her nose with his, grinning like a man who'd stumbled on treasure.