Andy kissed her gently, letting it linger. "You make it easy to fall for you, you know that?"

  She didn't reply right away. Just rested her fingers lightly against his jaw and looked at him with wide eyes. "You're absurd," she said at last.

  He grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief, then slid off her desk. He slid one arm behind her knees and the other around her back. "We should celebrate," he said, already starting to lift her.

  "Andy — !" Summer squeaked, arms flailing slightly as she found herself scooped off the chair. Her hair swung like a curtain of fiery silk around them.

  He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then nuzzled just below her ear. "You flawlessly launched a whole thing. That calls for extravagant praise. I'm thinking pastries. And ravishing. Possibly both at once."

  Andy carried her toward the living room, settling down on the couch with her still in his lap, arms loosely draped around her.

  "Pastries and ravishing at the same time?" Summer said, eyebrow raised. "That sounds like a logistical disaster. Crumbs everywhere."

  Andy made a wounded noise. "You lack vision. I could feed you bites between kisses. Artful, elegant, messy in the good way."

  She laughed, tucking her face into his neck. "I have a meeting in twenty minutes."

  "With a tyrant manager?" he asked, mock-dramatic.

  "No, I like my manager," she said, nudging his shoulder. "He actually listens when I file tickets."

  "Ugh. Fine," he sighed, over-exaggerated and mournful, and let her stand up. "But I want it noted in the official record that I was ready to ravish you immediately. That's boyfriend of the year material."

  She bent down to kiss his nose. "It's noted. You can have your award at lunch."

  "You wound me, woman. Denied my celebratory ravishing and told I have to wait an hour and a half?"

  "Meeting," she sing-songed. "Manager."

  "Fine. I will defer to the one person more powerful than me in this household."

  She raised an eyebrow. "Only one person?"

  Andy flopped dramatically onto the couch, one knee drawn up, still shirtless and gorgeous. "Okay, two. You and the cat I assume you're going to adopt eventually. But I want it on record that I was ready to worship you properly for your triumph."

  Summer gave him a sideways glance, her cheeks warm. "You can worship me at lunch. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to walk to the kitchen afterward."

  Andy leaned over to kiss her shoulder, just once. "Lunch ravishing it is. I'll make coffee and stare longingly until then."

  As soon as Summer put her headset on, he wandered barefoot into the kitchen, still shirtless, humming to himself. He opened the fridge with purpose.

  "Sandwiches worthy of celebration," he muttered. He pulled out sliced turkey, smoked provolone, and that fig jam she liked. He found some sourdough bread and began assembling layers with precision. He even added a second option — grilled cheese with caramelized onions — because he was indulgent and a little in love with feeding her.

  While the sandwiches sizzled gently on the pan, he danced a bit around the kitchen, hair messy, makeup from the night before still faintly shadowing his eyes. He peeked over the counter to check the clock.

  Almost lunchtime. Almost hers again.

  He plated the sandwiches carefully, the scent of melted cheese and toasted bread wafting around him. He was halfway to calling her name when Summer appeared in the doorway, barefoot, slightly flushed from conversation and concentration.

  She lit up when she saw him. "You made grilled cheese?"

  "And turkey with provolone and jam," Andy said, pleased. "Because you're brilliant and we're celebrating, remember?"

  Summer stepped forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, nose wrinkling slightly at the faint lingering eyeliner smudges. "You smell like smoke and soap and breakfast. It's a weirdly good combo."

  "I'm irresistible," he said airily, stepping aside so she could walk into the kitchen. "Come on. I've prepared a feast."

  Her laugh was quiet but delighted. "I can't believe you did all this."

  "I told you. Ravishing happens after. Fuel first." He held the plates out with a flourish. "Feast with me, spearmint-scented muse."

  Summer blushed, but she sat down, her eyes warm. "You're ridiculous."

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "I'm yours," Andy said, and handed her a sandwich.

  Summer bit into the sandwich with the kind of single-minded focus that made Andy laugh aloud. "Whoa," he said, eyes widening. "You've been replaced by a very cute velociraptor."

  She swallowed and smirked at him. "You're the one who promised ravishment. I'm just... goal-oriented."

  Andy dropped his fork with an exaggerated gasp. "Did you just use the word 'ravishment'?"

  "I did," she said sweetly. "You promised. After all, you're the one who wanted to celebrate."

  "That's dangerously hot of you," he said, half-giddy, watching her devour another bite with ruthless focus. "I've created a monster."

  "A monster who wants to be thrown on the bed after this," she replied.

  He stood so quickly the chair scraped backward. "Finish your sandwich. I'll go light candles."

  Summer laughed, cheeks pink as she took another huge bite. "Go prep your lair, dark genie. I'll be right there."

  Andy padded barefoot into her bedroom, the half-eaten sandwich forgotten as he replayed the nickname in his mind: dark genie. His lips twitched. There was something heady about it — playful and affectionate, yes, but threaded with the same reverence she always carried in her voice when talking about things she found mysterious or beautiful. And she'd used it on him.

  He found the little jar candle she'd tucked beside the folded towels in her bathroom cabinet — lavender, it said — and flicked a lighter to life. As the flame caught, he watched the wax begin to soften, then placed it carefully on the bedside table. The nickname clung to him like a phantom touch.

  Dark genie, he thought again, running a hand through his black hair. His grin stretched a little wider, fond and crooked. "That's going in the vault," he murmured to himself. "Might need to get that embroidered on a pillow."

  The thought made him snort as he turned down the sheets, arranging pillows with far more flair than necessary. He glanced toward the door, listening for the sound of Summer finishing up in the kitchen. Already, he could smell her — faintly mint and sunlight and warmth — and he felt that flicker of anticipation settle in his chest.

  He sat back on the edge of the bed, watching the candle flame flicker and sway in its glass. Dark genie, he mused one last time, savouring the taste of it like a secret.

  Andy's eyes flicked up as Summer peeked around the doorframe, her long red hair falling over one shoulder. The sight of her made something warm unfurl in his chest. He leaned back on his elbows, lounging deliberately in the candlelight, and gave her a slow, wicked smirk.

  "Well, well," he drawled. "Dark genie, huh? Is that what I am to you now?"

  Summer stepped in, cheeks pink, but her chin tilted stubbornly. "You grant wishes," she said, coming closer. "Like making me beautiful."

  His smirk faltered for just a breath as something quieter, more fragile slipped beneath it. He sat up straighter, reaching for her hand and twining their fingers together.

  "I didn't make you beautiful," he said softly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "You were always beautiful. I just — helped you see it."

  Summer looked like she wanted to argue, her lips parting, but Andy shook his head, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing her fingers gently.

  "You don't have to earn that," he added. "It's not a gift I gave you. It's just the truth. The same way you look at me like I'm more than some costume and black eyeliner."

  Summer's throat bobbed. "You are."

  "So are you," he murmured. Then his grin returned, slow and curling. "Still. I won't say no to being your genie. Especially if you keep making wishes like that."

  She laughed, her fingers tightening around his. "Then maybe I wish you'd keep saying things that make me feel like I'm someone worth loving."

  Andy stood, letting their joined hands pull her close. "Granted," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "Every damn time." Then his fingers tightened around Summer's hands, his grin going wicked again. Without warning, he scooped her up with a delighted little growl, making her squeak in surprise. Her long hair spilled over his arm, brushing against his bare back as he carried her the few steps to the bed.

  "Andy!" she gasped, laughing.

  "Shh," he said with mock seriousness. "You made a wish, my love. Now the ravishing must commence."

  He plopped her down onto the soft, dark comforter with care disguised as drama. Then he followed her down, hands already trailing up her sides, grinning like the wicked wish-granter she'd accused him of being. The soft candlelight flickered behind him, catching in the dark fall of his hair, the glint of mischief in his blue eyes.

  "I still have work today. Code problems to solve," she said breathlessly as he nuzzled into the hollow of her neck, pressing a kiss just beneath her ear.

  "Right now," he murmured, sliding his hands over her hips, "you have a genie problem."

  "Is that what this is?"

  "Oh yes." He kissed her stomach through her shirt, lifting the hem just enough to feel her warmth. Her scent wrapped around him. "You said you wanted to get to the ravishing. I'm only obeying orders."

  Summer laughed breathlessly, curling a hand into his hair. "You're very literal."

  "I'm very thorough," Andy countered. Then his eyes flicked up, dark and reverent. "And you're very lucky I'm madly in love with you."

  Her breath caught as she arched slightly under him. "You are?"

  He kissed the inside of her thigh like it was an answer.

  "Now," he said, voice thick with hunger and devotion, "lie back, my lady. Let your dark genie grant every wish you haven't even said aloud yet."

  They took their time. The candle flickered softly on the bedside table, but all Andy could truly register was Summer — her flushed skin under his hands, the sweep of her hair tangled across his chest, the way she gave as good as she got. For half an hour, they alternated between wicked teasing and quiet reverence, laughing into each other's mouths and whispering things that would have been too fragile or too intense to say with their eyes open.

  When her breathing evened and her eyes drifted closed for a moment, Andy pressed a kiss to her temple. "You know," he murmured, brushing her hair aside, "you could just take the rest of the day off. It's Friday. You've already earned it."

  Summer let out a lazy hum, but cracked one eye open. "I could," she said. "But I won't."

  Andy sighed dramatically and flopped beside her. "You and your infuriating integrity. Can't seduce you into abandoning your post, even with premium-grade ravishing?"

  "You tried," she said, poking him lightly in the ribs. "Very effectively."

  "I did," Andy agreed mournfully, though his grin crept back. "I admire your work ethic. I really do. It's inconvenient, but admirable."

  She leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Thanks."

  As she sat up to start gathering her clothes, Andy stayed sprawled across the bed, watching her with fond, possessive eyes. In his mind, though, the wheels were already turning — he had a plan. Once the workday ended, he was going to spirit her away.

  Summer would argue. She'd think it was too much. She'd try to tell him she wasn't — something.

  He was going to prove her wrong. He was going to make her glow.