You and Simon had the house to yourselves — or at least, you thought you did. Catherine and Steve, your mother and father in law, had gone out earlier to meet with their realtor, and you assumed they wouldn’t be back for hours.

The kitchen was quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator. Simon grinned at you, that mischievous look that always made your stomach flip.

“Think we’ve got time?” he asked, already pulling you closer.

You didn’t even hesitate. “Definitely.”

Things escalated quickly — the kind of rush that comes from doing something you shouldn’t. The counter was cold under your hands, Simon’s laugh muffled against your neck. It felt wild and reckless, and you were so wrapped up in the moment that you didn’t hear the front door open.

“Simon? Love? We’re back early—”

You froze.

Catherine’s voice carried down the hall, followed by the unmistakable sound of her footsteps approaching the kitchen. Before either of you could scramble away, she rounded the corner.

“Well,” she said, completely unbothered, setting her bag on the table, “don’t let me interrupt.”

Your face burned hotter than the oven behind you. Simon groaned and dragged a hand down his face, muttering, “Mum, seriously?”

Catherine just grinned. “You two carry on with… whatever that was. I’ll be in the garden.” She winked on her way out, clearly more entertained than scandalized.