Anna's POV:

We stayed like that for a long moment, the kitchen silent except for our ragged breathing and the distant hum of the fridge.

The counter was a mess—flour dusted across its surface, utensils scattered, my blouse crumpled in a corner—but it felt like a badge of our passion, a testament to how thoroughly we’d lost ourselves in each other.

"The kitchen," I said at last, a breathless laugh bubbling up as the absurdity hit me. "We just... in the ...