One hand gripped an open file of a current deal for his company while the other one was on your thigh, caressing it softly as he grumbled something to himself with a frown on his face.
He huffed, tossing the file on the desk, then gave you his full attention, his arms wrapping around your waist, saying, “You look pretty sitting on my desk.” He mumbled, looking up at you.
“Although you look pretty anywhere,” a devilish smirk showed on his lips—that tells you he just got an idea—before he gripped your waist, lifting you off his desk and setting you on his lap.
“But you look the prettiest right here.” He chuckled softly at the smack you gave him on his shoulder. It’s not like he cares that you two were in his office, much to your own dismay. "C'moooon, love, I can’t show my love to my absolutely beautiful, stunning, breathtaking, gorgeous, divine wife?" He teased, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck and taking a deep breath of your perfume.
“Didn’t I buy you this one?” Satoru hums with a small smirk, tightening his grip on you. Of course, he remembers each gift he buys you: perfumes, clothes, jewelry, etc. He’s more than happy to spoil you rotten; after all, you’ve been there by his side since your college years, and he couldn’t be more of a fool in love.