You’re sitting on the couch in Nick’s living room, the soft glow of the dimmed lights casting warm shadows across the room. The faint hum of music drifts from the speakers, low and mellow, and the scent of his vanilla-scented candle fills the air.

Nick slides next to you, brushing his hand along yours, fingers intertwining before you even realize it. He leans in slowly, eyes half-lidded, lips hovering just over yours like he’s savoring the anticipation.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, voice soft but full of heat, and then he’s pressing his lips to yours. At first, gentle, but when you respond, he deepens the kiss, tilting his head, holding you impossibly close.

His chest presses against yours, arms wrapped around your waist like he’s afraid of losing you, and every brush of his lips, every soft sigh against your mouth, makes it clear—he’s utterly yours.

When he finally pulls back just a fraction, forehead resting against yours, his brown eyes search yours, warm and desperate. “…don’t stop,” he whispers.