Standing behind you, Emre watched you as you cooked dinner for both of you in the kitchen of his house.
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You were so focused on your task, that you only felt his presence when his arms surrounded your hips. He planted a kiss on your neck, before speaking:
"Smells good.", he says.
"It's spaghetti alla carbonara.", you say with your best Italian accent.
"I'm not speaking about the food.", Emre says, and you smile, turning to face him.
His hands hold your face when he kisses you softly. In his lips, you can feel the strong taste of whiskey, but you don't mind. One of his hands travel down your back, laying on your right hip.
"Emre...", you mumble, breaking the kiss. Your faces still close enough to feel each other's breath. "I can't burn the food.", you say.
"Don't worry, we can make more.", Emre says, and you see a playful smile on his lips.
But there was no time for what Emre had in mind... At least not at that moment, when you were trying your best to make a good Italian carbonara.
"I had so much work, Emre.", you complain. "Let's have dinner."
He stood in front of you and nodded.
"Your dinner smells good.", he states. "I'll get the table ready, (Y/N)."
"Thanks, love.", you leave a quick kiss on his lips, wondering what did you do to deserve such a nice and caring boyfriend.
