She nestled closer, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder, one of her legs tangling with his. Her hand came up to rest on his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns over the soft hair there. Steve's breath caught. It was such a simple, proprietary gesture, and it sent a fresh jolt of awareness through him. He was suddenly, acutely conscious of the extra weight he carried around his middle, the lack of a defined, hard body he imagined she was used to. The insecurity, a familiar and unwelcome companion, pricked at the edges of his perfect contentment. "I'm... not exactly the quarterback I used to be," he murmured, the confession slipping out before he could stop it. It was a clumsy attempt at a joke, a shield for the vulnerability he felt under her knowing touch. Kaz lifted her head, propping herself up on an elbow to look down at him. The storm flashed, a brief, brilliant strobe of lightning that illuminated her face. The sleepy softness was gone from her eyes, replaced by a fierce, almost indignant tenderness.