The dimly lit wine cellar was cool and quiet, the scent of oak barrels and aged wine filling the air. I was admiring a vintage bottle when he appeared behind me, his warm breath tickling my neck.

“Looking for something special?” he asked, his voice low.

“Maybe,” I replied, turning to face him.

He stepped closer, his hand brushing mine as he reached for the same bottle. The tension crackled between us like static.

“Or maybe,” he murmured, “you’ve already found it.”

His lips met mine, the kiss slow and deliberate, the coolness of the cellar heightening the heat between us. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him as we melted into the moment.