She's already thinking about what happens the moment that front door closes — fingers curling around her keys a little tighter, pulse quickening with every block closer.

Dark eyes carry that specific kind of hunger that no amount of professional composure can fully hide, the kind that's been building since morning, sitting just beneath the surface of every ordinary moment.

The anticipation written across her face is its own invitation — warm skin, a slow exhale, the quiet electricity of someone who knows exactly what she wants and is almost there.