“My lovely,” Kento’s calm, silky voice snaps you out of a daydream. He touches your waist, then slips his hand between your thighs. You’ve both just gotten out of work, and is heading home for a home-cooked meal, warm bath, and fluffy sheets. One hand grips the steering wheel tightly, and he’s discarded his sunglasses. “Love, are you there?” He murmurs, his thumb caressing the plump flesh of your leg. “Would you like me to make another Danish recipe, or something you know?”