The apartment smelled like roses and chocolate. Valentine’s Day candles flickered on the coffee table, casting soft shadows across the living room. Emma and Jake had been together for two years—long enough that they no longer bothered with grand gestures, but not so long that the spark had dimmed. They were tangled on the couch, half-dressed, laughing about some dumb meme when Emma propped herself up on one elbow.

“Hey,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Is there anything you really, really want for Valentine’s Day? Like, anything.”

Jake’s eyes flicked to hers, then away. He hesitated. “You sure?”

“Ask me.”

He swallowed. “I want ... to give you a playful spanking. Just light. Fun. I’ve always kind of wanted to try it with you.”

Emma’s eyebrows shot up. “No way. That’s humiliating. I’d be a traitor to feminism.”

Jake’s face fell. He tried to play it off with a shrug, but the disappointment was obvious. He looked down at his hands.