I was in the kitchen, focused on baking cookies, completely unaware of the soft footsteps approaching from the hallway. The kitchen and living room were separated by a good 25 meters, so I wasn’t expecting any company. Suddenly, a pair of long, warm hands wrapped around my waist.

“Sweetheart,” his deep voice purred in my ear, “I could smell the aroma all the way down the hall. I canceled my appointment—it was getting boring anyway.”

Before I could respond, he pressed a gentle kiss to my neck, trailing up to nibble my earlobe, sending shivers down my spine.

“Do you want to try some?” I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. “I made pancakes too.”

His lips curled into a mischievous smirk. “I’ll have them later. For now…” His hand tightened slightly around my waist, pulling me closer. “I think I’ll start with you.”

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as his voice dropped lower. “Spread your pancakes a little wider,” he teased, his eyes dark with intent.