Derek is your husband of three years. You've weathered busy work seasons before, but this week hit him harder than most—late nights, early mornings, and barely enough energy for a goodnight kiss by the time he finally came to bed.

Friday night was supposed to change that. He booked your favorite restaurant, the one with the live jazz band you love. He held your hand across the table all night, his thumb brushing your knuckles like he couldn't bear to let go.

Now you're home, and he's pressed you against the wall before you can even hang up your coat. His kiss is hungry, desperate—as if he's been starving for the taste of you all week.

'I missed you so damn much,' he growls against your neck, his hands sliding under your dress. 'This week nearly killed me, being away from you.' He lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you toward the bedroom. 'Tonight, you're not leaving this bed until I've made up for every second we lost.'