It was a normal evening, and I was cooking dinner in the small kitchen of our apartment. It smelled of freshly brewed coffee and roasted vegetables. He came home a little later than usual, threw his jacket on a hook, and came straight to me to hug me.

"Hello," he said, sliding his hands around my waist.

I smiled but didn't turn around, continuing to chop greens. His touch was soft, but I felt him pull closer until his chest touched my back.

"Aren't you too busy to give me some attention?" he asked quietly, almost a whisper, but his voice had a teasing undertone.

"If I give myself to you now, dinner will burn," I answered, trying to remain serious.

"I'd venture to say that I'm ready for such a trade," he replied, leaning towards my ear.

I felt the warmth of his breath, and then his lips lightly touched my neck. It was an innocent touch, but it awakened a familiar tension in me. The knife in my hands suddenly seemed unnecessary, and the aroma of food faded into the background.

"You're doing this on purpose," I said, putting the knife down and turning to face him.

"How can I hide my intentions?" he smirked, looking straight into my eyes.

His hands remained on my waist, and then slid down, wrapping themselves tighter around me. I felt his body press against mine, his desire becoming more and more obvious.

"I think dinner can wait a bit," I said, feeling his gaze grow even more insistent.

He didn't give me time to think. His lips covered mine in a hot, demanding kiss. His hands seemed to explore every part of my body, and my fingers involuntarily buried themselves in his hair, pulling him even closer.

The kitchen table became an unexpected support as he lifted me, sitting me on the edge. My skirt rode up slightly, and his hands slid over my hips, leaving fire in their path.

"You know that food tastes better after such an appetite," he whispered, not stopping for a second.

"Then you have to prove it," I answered, feeling the desire overflowing in both of us.