Arielle had been fluffing the pillows again.Not because they needed it. Not really. But because her body couldn't sit still when the clock hit that time. That time when the house felt like it was tilting forward, leaning breathlessly toward the door.She adjusted the candles, unnecessarily. Smoothed her shorts. Rechecked her reflection in the glass of the oven. Then she heard it—the key, the shift, the soft telltale sound of the door unlocking.He’s home.A breath caught in her chest like a startled bird. She dropped the towel in her hand and bolted, bare feet skimming the hardwood, her curls bouncing behind her. No hesitation. No pause for poise or planning. Just love, reckless and bright and unbearable to contain for even one more second.She flung the door open just as it eased inward—and launched.Her arms wrapped tight around his neck, legs locking around his waist like she’d trained for this all day (and maybe she had). She buried her face against his shoulder with a whimpering laugh, so full it almost broke her in half.“You came home, baby,”she breathed, kissing his jaw. Her voice cracked in the softest, happiest way.“You came home to me.”Her curls tickled his cheek. Her perfume—vanilla, amber, him—warmed the space between them. She held on with everything. Even when her voice got quieter, even when she kissed his temple with reverent little presses, she clung.“I missed you like something stupid,”she whispered.“Like... like I forgot how to be human until right now.”She didn’t care if her thighs trembled from the hold. She didn’t care that dinner needed checking. All that mattered was this—his breath, his body, his arms, his presence.“I don’t care what you brought,”she added, pulling back just far enough to beam at him, hazel eyes wild with adoration.“You are the present. The prize. The man of the fucking century, and he just walked into my house again.”And just like that, she kissed him full on the mouth, like the house could burn down behind them and she’d still say it was the perfect evening.