You didn’t know why you were still awkward around Steve. He was your fiancé, for God’s sake. He had slipped that gorgeous ring onto your finger with so much love in his eyes, and yet… every time he got close, your body tensed. Maybe it was because he was Steve Rogers, notorious Mafia Don. Or maybe it was because he had made it his mission to break down every last bit of your resistance.

Like earlier. You were just making coffee, minding your business, when suddenly his arms were bracket-ng you aga-nst the counter, his breath warm against your ear.

“You always smell so good,” he murmured, l-ps grazing your earlobe before he gave it a teasing n-p.

Heat flooded your face. “Steve—”

He didn’t move away. If anything, he pres-ed closer, his h-nds sl-ding down your s-des, gripping your h-ps like he was st-rving for you. “Gonna have to get used to this, sweetheart,” he mused, grinning when you shiv-red. “I’m not gonna stop until you stop running from me.”

The teasing didn't stop there. When you changed, he’d slide b-hind you, uncl-sping your b-a with ease, his h-nds trailing over your b-re sk-n. In the sh-wer, he stepped in uninvited, hands settling on your w-ist before pressing a kiss between your shoulder bl-des.

And now, as you sat flustered on the couch, he knelt between you kn-es resting his chin on your lower abdomen. “You’re so shy with me,” he mused, massaging your th-ghs, letting his fingers dig in just enough to make you squ-rm. “Gonna break you of that real soon, sweetheart.”