John is on the couch watching TV when he hears Helen come home from work. The door is behind him, but he hears her pause when she sees him sitting there on the sofa. He almost calls out a greeting, but at the last moment keeps it to himself when he feels her gaze linger. Then the door closes with a dull thud, and her coat and briefcase drop unceremoniously to the floor.
By now, he knows that it must have been a long day at work- in a moment, she will come and join him on the couch, curling up against him to share in the mindless rerun that's dancing across the screen. He will ask how her day went, and she'll either tell him all about it, or simply utter a wordless groan that tells more than she thinks.
But a moment later, he is surprised when long arms reach over his shoulders from behind. Warm, soft skin presses against the back of his neck, and a lush, but chaste kiss rests on his jaw, just below his ear. Then, a hot breath tickles his senses as she whispers a husky "Hey."
John twists slightly in his seat, and the arms looped loosely around his neck shift so that Helen can meet his gaze. "Long day?" he asks, though he already knows the answer. A tired, lazy smile stretches across Helen's features. "You have no idea," she tells him with a roll of her eyes.
"Maybe I can help liven it up a bit," he returns, unable to keep the rumble of desire out of his voice. She's wearing the gunmetal power suit he likes so much- the one that turned the world's most intimidating business moguls into blushing schoolboys. And the look she's giving him makes him melt- always has.
"Maybe you can," she purrs back, leaning closer until her nose brushes against his ear, the contact sending a jolt of arousal through his body. But then she smoothly pulls away, and the vacuum she leaves in her place makes him ache.
She takes a few steps towards the stairs, her fingers trailing lightly across his shoulders until she's out of reach. Then, his eyes follow her, taking in the smooth sway of her hips, and the curve of her buttocks, made all the more distinctive by the heels she wore- shoes he knew were about to come off as soon as she made it upstairs.
Sure enough, when she turns, her fingers are already working at the polished buttons of her blouse, exposing inch by agonizing inch of soft skin. The swell of her breast heats his skin, and he sees the hitch of her chest that betrays her own arousal for him.
"I'm going to change into something... more comfortable," she tells him finally. And just like that, images of her in various states of undress flash searingly across his consciousness, sending his pulse skyrocketing. But he knows her game, and he isn't going to give in so easy. She can play him like a fiddle, but he can resist...
"Unless," she continues, her voice smooth as nectar, "you'd like to join me..."
He's out of his seat before she can even finish her offer. It's only hours later he realizes he forgot to turn off the TV.