On the drive back, Damian Spencer couldn't shake the unease coiled in his chest, terrified that Remi would start digging for answers. Fortunately, she simply leaned against his shoulder, eyes closed, appearing as if she’d drifted off to sleep.

"Remi?" he whispered, testing the waters.

"Quiet. I need a nap."

"Understood."

Damian pulled her tighter into his chest, adjusting her until she was perfectly cradled. When they reached the apartment, he carried her from the car with steady, rhythmic strides, careful not to disturb her rest. Once she was settled, he slipped out of the bedroom.

In the middle of the night, Remi reflexively reached for the man beside her, only to grasp at empty sheets. She sat up, dazed, blinking into the dark. She was still wearing the dress from earlier. After a quick, sluggish shower, she left her hair damp and wandered out to find him.

The living room was cast in shadows, illuminated only by the intermittent, rhythmic glow of a cigarette. Remi crept up behind him, looping her arms around his neck and burying her face in the crook of his shoulder.

"What are you thinking about?"

Damian shook his head, leaning in to kiss her hair, but his brow furrowed at the cold, damp texture. "Why didn't you dry your hair?"

His voice was rasping, scorched by nicotine. Remi glanced at the coffee table. The glass ashtray was overflowing with spent filters.

"Damian, what is actually wrong with you?"

"Is my Remi concerned for me?"

Remi circled around to face him, settling naturally into his lap. She hooked a finger under his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Why the sudden, pathetic act?"

"Hah, you little menace."

"Don't you love it when I'm a menace?"

Damian lifted his chin, baring the sharp, masculine line of his throat. With a lazy, deliberate motion, he flicked open the top two buttons of his shirt. "I want you to be even worse, Remi."

His throat bobbed as he spoke, his voice low and vibrating with a raw, gravelly intensity. He looked so effortlessly tempting, so open for the taking, that a shiver of heat raced down Remi’s spine.

"Who could resist such a view? Since you’re extending the invitation, Damian, it would be rude to refuse."

Remi smiled, her fingers tracing the path from his throat to his collarbone. She shifted, straddling his lap, their noses brushing as their breath began to tangle. "Damian, you look lethal."

"Remi, just finish me already. Any more teasing and—"

His words were swallowed by her kiss. Her tongue, soft and slick, danced against his, igniting an itch deep within his chest. Remi’s fingers moved with expert intent, unfastening the remaining buttons of his shirt and trailing light, fiery patterns across his abdomen.

To Damian, every point of contact felt like a live wire, turning his blood into liquid fire. The hunger became unbearable. He gripped the back of her neck with a heavy hand, pulling her in to deepen the collision.

That night, Remi pulled out every stop, catering to him until the first light of dawn began to bleed through the curtains.

By morning, the sun pooled over Damian as he reclined against the headboard, his expression one of pure, satiated indulgence. He leaned down, his thumb stroking the curve of Remi’s shoulder, admiring the map of mottled red marks he’d left on her pale skin like a brand. Only when he had memorized every inch did he pull her into his arms, finally drifting off to sleep.

Remi didn't wake until noon. She rolled over, colliding with a solid, warm chest.

"You're still here?"

Her voice was raw, her throat dry and aching. She clutched her neck, wincing. Damian was already reaching for a glass of water, his reflexes sharp.

Remi drained the glass and handed it back, fixing him with a mocking stare. "Done with the brooding, then?"

"Are you laughing at me?"

"No. I’m just saying, if you have something on your mind, you can just say it."

Damian pulled her into his side, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I just wanted my Remi to spoil me a little."

"And? Did I spoil you enough?"

"You were perfect, Remi. I’m very satisfied."

"You are so cheesy!"

Remi rubbed her arms, shuddering with feigned disgust. The tender atmosphere lasted all of three minutes before Damian let out a soft, amused sigh.

"If you're still tired, stay in bed. I'm going to make lunch."

"You? Cooking?"

"Obviously."

He gave her a self-assured wink and headed for the kitchen. Remi, curiosity piqued, trailed after him.

"When did you even organize the kitchen?"

"A few days ago. I couldn't have you leaving the house on an empty stomach every day."

"Wow, Damian. You're so thoughtful."

"Everything I do is to win your favor."

Remi stood in the doorway, watching him work. Her playful smile softened, and tears welled in her eyes, unbidden and sharp. She watched him in silence as he seared the steak and fried eggs. The room filled with the sizzle of butter and the rich, savory scent of a home-cooked meal.

Minutes later, a plate featuring a perfectly cooked steak was set on the table. Remi expectantly cut a piece and took a bite, chewing slowly as she met Damian’s expectant gaze.

"It's juicy and tender. Damian, this is incredible!"

Damian visibly relaxed, a weight lifting from his shoulders. "If you like it, I'll keep practicing. I'll cook for you every day."

As he spoke, he poured her a glass of orange juice. A strange, unfamiliar emotion flickered in Remi’s chest. She looked up at him with a beaming, genuine smile.

"It tastes like a home."

Damian didn't answer, only bowed his head to continue his meal, but the words echoed in his mind, fueling him with a dangerous, soaring hope.

*Damian’s thought: Persistency pays off. If I keep doing this, if I’m just good enough, one day she’ll finally trust me enough to give me her hand in marriage.*