The rain drummed softly against the windows. The room was dim, lit only by the soft flicker of the TV screen playing some movie neither of you were really watching.

The chill in the air made every shared blanket feel warmer, every breath feel closer.

Arkin shifted beside you in bed, his arm sliding around your waist, tugging you in until your head found his hard chest.

“Mmh…,” you murmured as his warmth sank into your skin.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, voice low and sinful. “I love that little gasp you make… right when my hand slides up your thigh.”

And just like that, his fingers found your thigh, warm and slow, gliding upward with that maddening mix of teasing and tenderness.

You tensed slightly, breath catching.

“Do you need more?” he asked playfully, his tone light, but his eyes looking at you deeply, never left yours.

“Stop it, Arkin,” you said, and squinted your eyes.

He tilted his head. “Hm?” his voice dropping to a husky purr.

“Why, baby? Worried I’ll warm you up a little too good, baby?” He smirked, he leaned in and slowly kissed your shoulder so gently it made your skin tingle.