Baking at midnight had become our little tradition. That night I was in the kitchen wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt, focused on the cookie dough. I didn’t hear Ava come in until her arms slid around me from behind.
She hugged me tightly, her hands resting on my stomach, pulling me flush against her. “You look too tempting like this,” she whispered. Her lips found my neck, kissing softly at first, then with more hunger.
I turned in her embrace. Our lips met instantly in a deep, passionate kiss. What started as playful quickly turned intense. She lifted me onto the counter, standing between my thighs as we kissed like we had been starving for each other. Hands roamed freely — under the t-shirt, tracing every curve, teasing and pleasing until both of us were breathless.
We never finished the cookies that night. Instead, we spent hours in the kitchen and then moved to the bedroom, exploring our connection with tender yet fiery passion. From that midnight encounter, our relationship became an addictive romance filled with daily desire and secret, sizzling moments.
