Making pizza

Carmen strolled into the kitchen with that effortless confidence she always carried, rolling up her sleeves and pulling her hair back into a loose, casual bun that made her look even more stunning.

I leaned back against the counter, unable to tear my eyes away as she opened the fridge and pulled out the ingredients, her movements smooth and practiced.

I couldn't help but admire how natural she looked, completely at ease in her element, focused and determined as she started laying out everything she needed for the pizza.

As she rolled out the dough, I tried to stay casual, but my gaze lingered on her fingers, skilled and precise as they shaped the dough into a perfect circle.

She worked swiftly, flour dusting her hands and arms as she kneaded the dough with a steady rhythm. I swallowed, feeling my cheeks heat up slightly as she concentrated, her brows furrowing in that way I'd come to adore.