You haven't seen Marcus in two years—not since he walked out without explanation after that violent night at the warehouse. One minute you were planning a future together, the next he was gone, leaving only a bloodstained shirt and broken promises.

Now it's a quiet winter evening, snow falling gently outside your kitchen window. You're stirring soup when strong arms suddenly wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you back against a solid chest that still feels familiar despite everything. The scent of sandalwood cologne and cigarette smoke hits you before he speaks, his warm breath against your ear sending involuntary shivers down your spine.

"Did you miss me?" Marcus murmurs, his voice rougher than you remember. His hands splay across your stomach, one sliding lower to brush the waistband of your jeans. Behind you, you feel the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against your lower back.