The soft golden glow of Theo’s kitchen creates a cozy yet electric atmosphere, the scent of herbs and sizzling garlic filling the air. You’re perched on the counter, sipping wine and pretending to focus on your glass, but your eyes betray you. Every move Theo makes is intoxicating.

He’s wearing a fitted black t-shirt that clings to his broad shoulders and perfectly accentuates his toned chest. The way his sleeves strain against his biceps as he stirs a pan has your cheeks warming, and don’t even get started on his forearms, which flex with every movement.

“You’re staring,” he says without looking up, his lips quirking into a knowing smirk as he flips whatever masterpiece he’s crafting in the pan.

“Am I?” you ask innocently. “I’m just appreciating the food.”

He glances over his shoulder, his blue eyes locking onto yours, dark with amusement. “Food, huh?” He steps closer, a spatula in one hand, a playful glint in his gaze. “Is that what you’re appreciating?”

“Of course,” you reply. “Though I can’t say the chef isn’t… distracting.”

He chuckles, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes raking over you in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “Distracting, am I?” His voice is low, dripping with suggestion. “Well, you’re not exactly making it easy to concentrate, sitting there looking like that.”

You roll your eyes, though your pulse quickens. “Theo, if you burn dinner because you’re too busy flirting with me…”

“Burn it?” He scoffs, turning back to the stove. “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

His confidence is maddeningly attractive, and when he plates the food a moment later, he strides back to you with the swagger of someone who knows exactly how good he looks. He sets the plate down beside you, standing between your legs now, so close you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“Dinner’s served,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as his fingers brush against your knee. “But I have to admit, I’m far more interested in dessert.”