The quiet click of the front door unlocking barely made a sound, but John Wick was already aware—aware of the warmth that came with stepping into the one place that truly felt like home. You.

His sharp eyes immediately found you standing in the kitchen, the dim glow of the overhead light casting soft shadows over your figure. Strapless black mini dress hugging your curves, sheer thigh-high stockings accentuating your legs, and black heels adding to the allure. But what had him frozen for a moment wasn’t just the sight—it was the ease with which you stood there, completely unaware of how effortlessly you owned him.

He stepped closer, his voice low and edged with something unreadable.
"Making something sweet at this hour, malyshka? Or are you waiting for me?"