He : "Why would we go to a restaurant? I am taking you to my home. I will cook for you."

Me : "Okay."

But my heart was hammering. This was the first time he was taking me to his home.

We reached his apartment. He opened the door, and I stepped inside. It was cozy, warm, and super clean—totally different from my flat.

He : "Go take a shower while I prepare food for you."

I looked at him with wide eyes.

Me : "Why do I need to shower? I can do that when I reach my flat."

He took slow steps in my direction. I moved backwards until I hit the kitchen counter. He kept coming, inch by inch, until I was bending back, trapped. He caged me in with his hands on either side, his face inches from mine.

He : "You aren't going anywhere. You are staying the night."

Me : "You didn't tell me that when I asked you."

He : "Yes, see—I did make you come, and I will cook for you. But I didn't say I would drop you off, or that I would let you go."

Me : "I don't have any clothes."

He : "Use mine."

He led me to the bathroom and handed me his shirt and a pair of shorts.

When I was done showering, I smelled like him—clean and woody, because I had used every single one of his products. I looked at his clothes laid out for me. I didn't wear a bra. I didn't wear the shorts. Just his oversized shirt, the fabric barely skimming my thighs, and my lace underwear underneath.

I slowly went to the kitchen. He was already cooking, sleeves rolled up, the muscles in his forearms shifting with every stir.

He looked at me, and his eyes instantly went dark, dropping from my wet hair to my bare legs to the way his shirt hung open just enough at the collar.

Me : "Where did you freshen up?"

He : "I have another bathroom in the guest room."

I walked closer, my bare feet silent on the floor. He wrapped his arm around my waist, his palm hot and firm against the small of my back, and lifted me onto the counter. The marble was cold against my thighs. We were so close now, his body caged between my knees.

And then I saw the chocolate syrup nearby.

I took the bottle and poured a thin stream onto my finger, then licked it slowly, letting out a soft, deliberate moan at the rich sweetness.

He : "Don't make that sound, Miss Aahana. Just because I am cooking doesn't mean I won't stop and kiss you right now."