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A weekend getaway in a cabin. That’s what Bradley had offered as an apology for the early morning shenanigans of a hike that had ended up with the two of you covered in snow and warming up in the bronco the only way to people desperately in love could.
It was Hangman’s property and he had loaned the keys to Bradley, under the condition that it be left in the same condition it was found. Not quite reassured by Bradley’s snickering, Hangman only released his grip on the keys when you stepped in, promising that you would keep your boyfriend in line. The drive was nice, a few hours out of San Diego, but still within the time limit of travel if Bradley was called in. You stare in awe through the windshield at the cabin at the end of a winding dirt road. A two-story log cabin with a wrap around porch, nestled in the midst of towering pine trees covered in snow.
“Bradley,” you turn away from the view, to look at your boyfriend. “It’s beautiful. Our own little winter wonderland.” You’re unbuckling your seatbelt, bounding out of the bronco. The snow is up powdery and soft, flurries cascading from the gray sky.
“If you grab the bag, I’ll bring in the supplies.” Bradley wraps around you from behind, placing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Then you can explore to your heart’s content.”
Instead, the two of you end up tangled together in the kitchen. Bradley is gentle, hands wandering, mouth pressing soft kisses to heated skin as you unwrap each other, shedding winter clothes. When he presses you against the kitchen island, you hop up onto it, his hands steadying you, pulling you closer to the edge. You’ve often teased that Bradley’s built to fuck, but when he’s got it in mind to show you how gently he can love you, it’s overwhelming. And so, so good.
You stay perched on the countertop afterward, watching him put away the groceries, shirtless, gray sweats riding low on tanned hips. A cup of coffee is cradled in your hands, and when those deep brown eyes meet yours, you can’t help but hide your smile behind the rim of your mug.
“Shower then unpack?” He asks, easily lifting the mug from your hands and taking a sip. You nod, and Bradley helps you down from the counter, scooping up the bag and following you to the bedroom. Shower abandoned in lieu of getting tangled up again, this time under a down comforter and high thread count sheets. Once more, he’s slow and gentle, making love—making up for lost time from trainings and mission briefings. You’ve been in love before, but the way Bradley loves you is different. Every kiss, every brush of fingers against your skin, the way he murmurs your name in post-orgasm bliss, you don’t want to let it go.
It's well past midnight when you wake up. Bradley’s sprawled out on his stomach, one arm draped over you as he snores softly. You sit up, watching the sleeping man. The moonlight on the snow illuminates the room, casting his face into soft shadows. Fingertips graze along his cheek, the edge of his mustache, thumb brushing his lower lip. His breathing eases, deepening, leveling out. He looks so relaxed, peaceful. When he’s awake, he’s all angles and sharp edges, coiled tight ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.
But right now?
He's soft. It’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. It’s been so easy to love him, be with him. Six months was all it took for him to have your heart in his hands. Six months for you to trust him with it. Six months to realize that there’s nothing you can’t do without this man by your side. And how fiercely you’d protect this peace he keeps hidden away.
Your stomach has other plans, and it rumbles loudly. Untangling yourself from Bradley and the blankets you pull on a pair of pj pants and a sweatshirt, padding barefoot to the kitchen. You make yourself a sandwich and knowing Bradley won’t be long behind you (the man cannot sleep in a bed alone), you make a second, putting both on a plate. You curl up on the couch that’s in front of a wall of windows overlooking the woods, pulling another heavy blanket over your lap. It’s snowing again, fat white flakes dropping rapidly from the sky. It’s quiet, peaceful and beautiful.
“Really coming down, isn’t it?” Bradley asks, lounging in the doorway of the bedroom, watching you.
“We might get snowed in.” You pat the couch next to you. “Made you a sandwich.”
He chuckles, settling next to you under the blankets. “Snowed in huh? Whatever shall we do.” He takes the sandwich and kisses your cheek.
“I don’t know Bradshaw,” you say dryly, teasing him. “I bet you could come up with a few ideas to occupy our time.”
“Parcheesi.” Bradley responds. “I packed it.”
“I’m more of a Yahtzee girl.”
“I’ll have you screaming, honey, but it won’t be Yahtzee.” Bradley chuckles softly, taking the plate from your lap, putting it on the coffee table. “Should I show you now or later, the plans I have for us.” His mouth drags softly against your neck, your fingers coming up to tangle in his hair, toying with the curls.
“Sleep now, flyboy.” You pull him closer, taking his weight and warmth happily.