The hotel room is quiet except for the low hum of the AC and the faint sound of waves outside the balcony, the curtains glowing orange from the sunset as you stand near the bed trying to unpack, but it’s hard to focus when Jeno hasn’t stopped staring at you since you both got to the villa.

He’s sprawled across the sheets in just a loose tee and sweatpants, hair messy from his shower, watching you with that lazy, affectionate look that always makes your heart trip. “You’re really unpacking right now?” he murmurs, voice husky with sleep, and before you can answer he’s already up, crossing the room and sliding his arms around your waist from behind, warm palms settling on your hips like it’s the most natural place for them to be. He rests his chin on your shoulder, breathing you in, holding you a little tighter than necessary, thumbs slowly tracing small circles that make it impossible to think straight.

“We finally have time alone,” he whispers near your ear, smiling when you shiver, his reflection in the mirror all soft eyes and quiet teasing. “No schedules… no one knocking on the door… no calls... just my wife and me.” His fingers hook into the band of your pants, lacing them against his fingers as he gently pulls you back onto the bed with him, not letting go, like he plans to keep you there all night. “So,” he mumbles against your neck, playful but low, “are we going out? or are we staying here for a while?”