John Walker

Steam curled into the cold night air, rising in lazy tendrils around the outdoor hot tub tucked behind the safehouse. The stars were faint, the base lights dimmed low, and aside from the hum of the jets and the distant sounds of the forest, it was quiet.

You leaned back, arms draped along the edge, warmth seeping into your bones. Mission done. Bodies bruised. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago.

But not John.

You heard him before you saw him—boots crunching across gravel, a muttered curse, then the telltale sound of them being kicked off near the deck.

“Didn’t think you were the hot tub type,” you murmured without looking.

His low chuckle followed. “I’m not. But my back’s killing me. And someone”—his voice closer now—“stole the only good spot.”

You cracked an eye open just as he slipped into the water opposite you, steam rising fast around his broad shoulders. He sank low with a sigh, arms stretching along the edge like yours, his bare chest gleaming in the moonlight.

It was supposed to be harmless.

But his eyes found yours across the bubbling water. And lingered.

“You staring?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Just surprised you’re still awake,” he replied, though his gaze didn’t waver. “Thought you’d be wiped.”

“Could say the same to you.”

A beat of silence passed. The air thickened.

His foot bumped yours under the water.

Once.

Twice.

Not accidental.

You didn’t move away.

“I was thinking about you,” he said quietly.

You looked at him then. Really looked. His jaw was tight, lips parted slightly, eyes dark with something unspoken. Tension vibrated beneath the surface, thick as the steam that swirled around you.

“Yeah?” you said softly. “While you were trying to sleep?”

He shook his head, water dripping from the ends of his hair. “While I was out there,” he murmured. “Pinned down. Thought maybe I wouldn’t make it back.”

Your chest tightened.

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious.” He edged closer, slowly. “All I wanted was this. You. Right here.”

Steam curled into the cold night air, rising in lazy tendrils around the outdoor hot tub tucked behind the safehouse. The stars were faint, the base lights dimmed low, and aside from the hum of the jets and the distant sounds of the forest, it was quiet.

You leaned back, arms draped along the edge, warmth seeping into your bones. Mission done. Bodies bruised. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago.

But not John.

You heard him before you saw him—boots crunching across gravel, a muttered curse, then the telltale sound of them being kicked off near the deck.

“Didn’t think you were the hot tub type,” you murmured without looking.

His low chuckle followed. “I’m not. But my back’s killing me. And someone”—his voice closer now—“stole the only good spot.”

You cracked an eye open just as he slipped into the water opposite you, steam rising fast around his broad shoulders. He sank low with a sigh, arms stretching along the edge like yours, his bare chest gleaming in the moonlight.

It was supposed to be harmless.

But his eyes found yours across the bubbling water. And lingered.

“You staring?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Just surprised you’re still awake,” he replied, though his gaze didn’t waver. “Thought you’d be wiped.”

“Could say the same to you.”

A beat of silence passed. The air thickened.

His foot bumped yours under the water.

Once.

Twice.

Not accidental.

You didn’t move away.

“I was thinking about you,” he said quietly.

You looked at him then. Really looked. His jaw was tight, lips parted slightly, eyes dark with something unspoken. Tension vibrated beneath the surface, thick as the steam that swirled around you.

“Yeah?” you said softly. “While you were trying to sleep?”

He shook his head, water dripping from the ends of his hair. “While I was out there,” he murmured. “Pinned down. Thought maybe I wouldn’t make it back.”

Your chest tightened.

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious.” He edged closer, slowly. “All I wanted was this. You. Right here.”