The moment we step into our new apartment, the air hums with something electric. The space is empty except for a few scattered moving boxes, the walls still waiting to be claimed as ours. But right now, none of that matters. The only thing I can focus on is my gorgeous looking wife.
She stands in the soft glow of the city lights seeping through the uncovered windows, her dark brunette hair cascading over her shoulders, catching the faint golden shimmer. Hazel eyes gleam as she turns to me, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. The freckles dusted across her cheeks make her look innocent, but I know better. I know what lies beneath that teasing smirk.
“You realize,” she murmurs, stepping closer, “this is our first night here.”
I nod, watching the way she sways, the curve of her hips hypnotic, her bare feet whispering against the wooden floor. My blood thickens, anticipation coiling in my stomach. The air between us tightens.
“There’s no furniture,” I say, my voice lower than intended. “No bed.”
She tilts her head, biting her lip. “Then we improvise.”
Fuck.
My hands are on her before I can think, fingers tangling in her hair as I pull her closer, capturing that wicked little mouth with mine. She tastes like wine and possibility, like every damn fantasy I’ve ever had about her wrapped into one perfect, intoxicating kiss. Her body melts against me, warm, soft, so fucking right.
I push her back against the cool, freshly painted wall, pressing against her until there’s no space left between us. She exhales sharply, her nails grazing my neck, sending sparks of heat straight to my core. My hands roam down, sliding under the hem of her sweater, fingertips tracing the silk of her skin. She gasps as I lift it over her head, leaving her in nothing but a lacy black bra that does nothing to hide how hard her nipples already are.
“You planned this,” I murmur against her throat, dragging my lips down, kissing the delicate line of her collarbone.
She shivers. “Maybe.”
“Minx.”
I drop to my knees, hands trailing down her sides, over the swell of her hips, before I hook my fingers into the waistband of her shorts and slide them down. The way she watches me—eyes dark, lips parted—sends my pulse into a reckless rhythm.
The apartment is empty. The world outside doesn’t exist. Right now, there is only her—moaning my name, trembling under my touch, her body arching, begging for more. And fuck, I’m going to give it to her.
Our first night here will leave its mark. A memory we’ll revisit again and again. A night neither of us will ever forget.
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