After This Sold House — Season 8. Because you know it had to have happened in the kitchen at some point!
Angela came up behind Tony as he was wringing out a washcloth at the kitchen sink and slipped her arms around him. "That was quite a speech you made this afternoon."
He welcomed the press of her body against his and felt the familiar stirrings of desire when she traced her fingers up and down his chest. "I meant every word," he affirmed. "This is our house, and I didn't realize how much it had come to feel like my home until that bozo talked about destroying it."
He turned around within the circle of her embrace and wrapped his arms around her in return. It was late, and she was wearing her favorite pink bathrobe in preparation for going to bed. He'd also changed into sweats and a t-shirt before returning to the kitchen to make breakfast and lunch for the next day. "I'm glad you feel like this is your home, Tony. When I think about this house, it's not Michael that comes to mind, but you and Sam and Jonathan and Mother, and all the family dinners and cookouts over the years. That's what I think of," she told him as she moved her hands up his back.
He settled his hands at her hips and pulled her tighter against him. "I think about Christmas mornings and family movies and late nights like this when you come downstairs in this cute robe," he told her.
Feeling the heat of his appraisal, she followed suit. "I think about our first kiss in this kitchen on my birthday, after our flour fight and you saying this was the best job you'd ever had." His eyes darkened in arousal as she continued seductively, "That was the best present I ever received."
In one fluid motion, they closed the distance and seized each other's mouth as surely as they had seven years earlier. Only this time, they didn't stop. Without breaking the kiss, they shuffled backward until Angela found herself perched on the edge of the table. Tony's hands tugged at the belt of the robe until it came lose and then groaned with desire when he discovered there was nothing underneath it.
"Surprise," she gasped as his lips found her collar bone and his hands pushed the garment off her shoulders and down her arms.
In return, she tugged his shirt over his head and pulled him toward her as her legs wrapped around him.
"Angela, is this a good idea?" he rasped even as he brought his mouth back to hers and used his hands to draw from her another whimper.
In halting bursts, punctuated by gasps of pleasure and the colossal effort to divest him of his sweatpants, she managed to tell him, "We'll be quick ... because from now on … when you're cleaning in here … I want you to only think about this …" — she drew him into her — "and not some silly graffiti ... behind the fridge."
A moment later, he was fully atop her, fully surrounded by her and certain that he would never enter the kitchen again without thinking of the incredible woman who had shared with him her life and her love, so that together they could make a home.