Damon just came home from his meeting. His men trailed behind him until he dismissed them with a flick of his hand. The moment the door shut, he called out for you.

“Honey? I’m home. Aren’t you going to give me a hug, hm?” he said as he loosened his tie.

You rushed toward him and jumped into his arms. He caught you effortlessly.

“Welcome home~” you giggled.

He held you close, his arms tightening around you. “Just a hug? No kiss?” he asked with a tilt of his head and a teasing smirk.

You chuckled and gave him a quick kiss—but before you could fully pull back, his hand slid gently to your neck, guiding you into a deeper, passionate kiss.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless. “That’s a proper kiss, honey,” he murmured, brushing a kiss on your forehead.

You rolled your eyes. “Such a punk…”

His smirk widened. “A punk just for you.” He leaned his forehead against yours.

“Oh—right! I cooked something for you. Come on,” you said, leading him to the kitchen with your hand in his.

He sat at the counter as you moved toward the fridge. “This is yours,” you said, placing the ratatouille in front of him. “And this is mine.” You set down your plate—sliced sausage with lettuce.

He smiled. “I’m sure it tastes great, baby.” Then he paused, eyebrow raised. “What’s that?” He pointed at your plate.

“Oh, this? Just sausage with lettuce,” you said, smiling. You noticed the look in his eyes—you knew he was about to tease you again, but you had no idea how.

He slid your plate aside and walked toward you. His hands wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close. “Why eat something like that when I have mine, hmm.”