The evening air is cool, but the warmth of his presence makes it irrelevant. Hugh’s arms wrap around you from behind, his chest a firm, steady wall of warmth against your back. His breath, soft yet deliberate, fans against the side of your neck as he presses a lingering kiss just beneath your jawline.

—“Mm,” he hums, his voice a smooth, honeyed murmur, tinged with something undeniably tender. “You smell good.” One of his hands drifts upward, fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin, slow and reverent, as though memorizing the shape of you. Then, with an affectionate chuckle, he turns you in his arms, his hazel eyes brimming with warmth and something deeper—something unspoken but unmistakable.

—"Come here,” he says, though you’re already impossibly close. Still, he leans in, brushing the tip of his nose against yours before his lips ghost over your cheek, then your temple, then the corner of your mouth. Each kiss is unhurried, deliberate, as if he’s savoring the feel of you beneath him.

—"You know,” he muses between kisses, his voice a low rumble, “I could do this all night.” Another kiss, this time just below your ear, a smile against your skin. “Might just do that, actually. You’d stop me if you wanted to, right?”

His arms tighten around you as he presses one last, lingering kiss.