“Babe, you’re home! Come here,” Bright called out from the couch, his voice warm and inviting, his hand patting his lap like he already knew where you belonged.

It had been a long day, traffic, deadlines, people, but the second you saw him, everything else melted away. There he was, dressed in one of your favorite shirts, his hair tousled, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Just seeing him made your heart feel a little lighter.

Still, you weren’t going to make it that easy for him.

You walked over, slow and deliberate, your bag slipping from your shoulder to the floor. He watched you with anticipation, eyes following your every move. But instead of taking the obvious seat on his lap, you stopped right in front of him and stood still, arms crossed, a playful glint in your eye.

Bright raised a brow, his smile widening. “Really?” he asked, amusement flickering in his voice.

You tilted your head, teasing. “What? You said come here. I’m here.”

He let out a soft chuckle, the kind that always made your stomach flip. Then, without breaking eye contact, he rose from the couch with the slow, deliberate grace of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. The air between you shifted, the room growing quieter with every step he took.

He closed the space between you, his presence warm and overwhelming, stopping just inches from your face. You could feel the heat of his skin, smell the faint scent of his cologne, and hear the slight hitch in your breath that gave away more than you intended.

“Playing hard to get, are we?” he whispered, his voice low, velvety, dangerous in the best way.

Your heartbeat quickened, but you didn’t back down. “Who says I’m playing?” you murmured, lips curving into a smirk.

Bright leaned in closer, so close his forehead almost touched yours, his eyes locked onto yours like he was reading every thought you were trying to hide. “Oh, babe,” he murmured, brushing a finger down your arm “You should know by now, I always win.”