He was in his bedroom, exhausted after a long day’s work, ready to unwind. As he loosened his tie and slipped off his blazer, the lights suddenly went out, plunging the room into darkness.

Frowning, he reached for his drawer, searching for a candle, when the door opened, and someone stumbled in. It was you.

“The power’s off,” you said, your voice soft but unmistakable. He had missed hearing it.

He lit the candle, its warm glow revealing your face. For a moment, you were both silent, the flickering light casting shadows that danced around the room. You glanced at the candle, then back at him, a hint of a smile in your eyes.

“Do you have more?” you asked, your voice almost a whisper.

Wordlessly, he passed you a few more candles, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch lingered, sending a rush through him, thoughts of you filling his mind. You moved around the room, lighting each candle carefully, creating a soft, warm glow that filled every corner.

As you bent to place the last candle by his bedside, your silhouette was framed against the light, your nightgown flowing over your figure, every curve perfectly outlined. You stood up slowly, turning to face him, your eyes catching his in the dim light.

In the quiet of the candlelit room, you sat across from him, each flicker of light drawing you closer, the tension between you thick and undeniable. It was just the two of you, surrounded by shadows and silence, the world outside forgotten.

And all he could think was how breathtaking you looked in that moment.