The kitchen smells like vanilla and sugar, music playing softly from your phone as you move between the counter and the oven. You’re focused, a little too focused, baking is the only thing keeping your mind off the argument you’ve been replaying all day.

So you don’t hear the front door open.

“Hey, sis.”

You freeze for half a second before turning around. Your brother stands in the doorway, keys in hand and behind him is Kian.

Your stomach drops.

He leans against the doorframe like he owns the place, arms crossed, eyes locked on you. He hasn’t even tried to hide it, the way his gaze lingers, the way his jaw tightens when you don’t look away fast enough. No one else would notice. But you do.

Your secret.

“I’m gonna run down the street and grab something,”

your brother says casually.

“I’ll be back. Don’t burn the house down.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes, turning back to the counter as you hear the door close behind him. Only then do you let your shoulders tense.

You feel him before you hear him.

Strong hands settle slowly on your hips, familiar and unwelcome all at once. He nudges your hair aside, breath warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine despite yourself.

“What are you—”

you start, but the words die when he presses his face into the curve of your neck, lips brushing your skin in a way that makes your heart betray you instantly.

“Shit…”

he murmurs quietly, like he’s been holding it in all day.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

His lips trail upward, soft and careful now, not demanding, not rushed. Almost apologetic.

“Please stop ignoring me,”

he says, voice low, rough with emotion.

“I know you’re mad. I know I screwed up. But I know you still love me.”

He nips at the nape of your neck.