You didn’t expect it to be this perfect.

Stefan picked you up just after sunset—dark jeans, black button-down shirt rolled at the sleeves, hair perfectly messy, lips twitching into a smirk when he saw you walk out in that deep burgundy velvet dress.

His eyes dropped instantly to your thighs. “You wore the one I like,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek that lingered just a little too close to your lips.

“I wore it for you.”

“Good. Because I plan on taking it off.”

He drove you into town, but instead of the Grill or a normal dinner spot, he pulled into a side street and took your hand, guiding you up a set of narrow stairs you’d never noticed before.

At the top?

A private rooftop, bathed in candlelight.

A table set for two. Soft music playing from an old record player. A blanket of stars above you, and Stefan—watching you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in two centuries.

“I wanted to do something just for us,” he said softly, pulling out your chair. “Somewhere quiet. Somewhere I can look at you without having to share you with the world.”

The dinner was intimate. Laughter. Wine. Touches under the table that lingered too long. At one point, he reached across the table, brushing your hand with his thumb.

“You know I love you, right?” he said suddenly—no smirk, no teasing. Just truth.

You smiled. “I know. I love you too.”

That’s when he stood, held out a hand, and asked:

“Dance with me?”

You nodded, letting him pull you into his arms as the music swelled. You danced slow, bodies close, his lips brushing your temple as you swayed under the stars.

But then… his voice dropped.

“Wanna know what I’ve been thinking about all night?” he whispered, lips at your ear.

You bit your lip. “What?”

“That dress. Sliding up your hips while I’m buried between your thighs. Your legs wrapped around me in the backseat. You begging me not to stop.”

You swallowed hard.

“Do you want that?” he asked, his hand trailing down your back. “Right now?”

You didn’t even have to answer.

He kissed you hard—desperate, hungry, claiming—before pulling you toward the car with that look in his eyes. The one that said:

This date night? Isn’t over.