You stood in the kitchen, leaning against the door frame, and couldn't take your eyes off Bob. His powerful shoulders tensed with every movement as he washed the dishes, water trickled down his muscular forearms, leaving wet trails on the sleeves of his rolled-up shirt. He was focused, as if he was not doing a household task, but preparing for another battle. Every gesture was precise, confident, and you found yourself thinking that you would like to feel this power on yourself.

"Do you always wash the dishes so diligently?" Your voice was quieter than you'd planned, but he heard you.

Bob turned around, his eyes met yours, and there was a spark of something more than just friendliness in them. "Only when I know I'm being watched," he replied, and a faint smile twitched at the corner of his lips.

You felt the warmth spreading through your body, and you took a step closer. — And if I tell you that I want to watch you always?
Your fingers touched the edge of the table, as if looking for support, but really you just wanted to close the distance between you and him.

He put the plate on the dryer and wiped his hands with a towel, without taking his eyes off you. "Then maybe I should find something more interesting to do," his voice deepened, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.