It was evening, the kitchen bathed in the golden glow of warm light, casting soft shadows across the tiled walls. I was at the stove, cooking quietly, wearing the baby pink apron you gave me. The color was quite feminine, but it suited me—just as you said. My slender yet broad shoulders were exposed, glowing slightly under the light.

The front door opened. You were home.

I felt your presence before I heard your steps. Then—your arms wrapped around me from behind, chest pressing against my back, your warmth sinking into me Your hands slipped under my shirt—your fingertips trailing slowly over my skin like a secret kiss. I let out a soft moan and whispered,

"L-Love… welcome back…" I tilted my head, glancing back at you, my eyes shy but pleading. My grip on the pan handle tightened, knuckles paling as I braced myself against the counter.

Then, my voice dropped—low, breathy, a little hoarse.

“I… I smell like sweat… don’t pounce on me yet…” I whispered, a trembling smile tugging at my lips, body already leaning into your touch despite my words.