It was late when you returned from the event, your heels clicking softly against the marble floor as you stepped inside. You assumed your husband wasn’t home yet—the penthouse was dark, still. With a tired sigh, you kicked off your stilettos, the straps slipping free.

You swept your hair aside, fingers finding the zipper at the back of your dress. Slowly, the fabric peeled away from your skin—cool air kissed your bare shoulders as the gown slid down your body and pooled around your ankles.

And then—you felt it.

A presence.

You turned—and froze.

He was there, seated by the open balcony window. The curtains billowed gently with the wind, framing him like a painting in motion. He was dressed in tailored black pants and a crisp white dress shirt, a few buttons undone at the top, exposing his collarbone and a hint of chest.

His sleeves were rolled up, forearms resting on the arm of the chair as he held a stack of papers.

His gaze lifted.

And locked on you.

His eyes widened slightly—then narrowed, a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips before he casually lifted the papers to his mouth, as if to hide it.

Your body snapped to attention, you were fully exposed, your arms coming up to shield yourself, cheeks flaring with heat. “I— I didn’t know you were home,” you stammered.

But before you could dart away, he was already moving.

Fast.

He crossed the room in a few deliberate strides, he grabbed your wrist, then his coat from the chair, and in one smooth motion wrapped it around you. Thick and warm, it swallowed your body, but not the shiver that ran through you when his arm curled tight around your waist.

He pressed you against the wall, chest to chest, your breath catching at the sudden closeness.

“You always undress like that when you think I’m not around?” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear, his voice low and deliciously amused.

You turned your face away, burning. “I didn’t know—”

“I know,” he interrupted, one hand tilting your chin toward him. “But now you do.”

Then, with his coat around you and your body flush against his, he leaned in, his breath nothing more than a whisper against your skin.