The morning light spilled lazily through the tall windows, casting soft golden hues across the room. I sat on the edge of the couch, working on my laptop, deep in thought—until she drifted into my view. Messy morning hair. Sleep-heavy eyes. Barefoot and breathtaking. She was like something out of a dream that never truly fades. She yawned, stretching her arms overhead as her shirt slid off one shoulder, exposing a sliver of delicate skin. "Good morning," she mumbled sleepily, eyes barely open. "Ugh… my eyes don't wanna wake up. I could easily sleep for another ten hours." I didn't look up from my screen. I just smirked, letting my voice drop to a teasing murmur. "I got a way to wake you up instantly," I said.
Her lips curled into a lazy grin as she walked toward the couch. "Oh? Really? What's that—coffee? Cold water? A slap on the face?". She was just about to sit down—until I grabbed her wrist. With one swift, unexpected pull, I brought her into my lap. She gasped, her eyes snapping wide open. "Vincenzo! ". I couldn't help but chuckle. "See? Now your eyes are wide open. Mission accomplished." "You're insane!" she huffed, smacking my shoulder. I didn't let her go. Instead, I pulled her closer—flush against me, eliminating even the space for air to pass between us. "Nothing insane about a husband wanting to wake up his wife in some different ways" I whispered near her ear, letting my breath tickle her skin. He arched a brow, a soft, teasing smile brushing her lips as she eased onto my lap, her legs wrapping around my waist and her arms gently looping around my neck, pulling me into a tender, wordless embrace. "You're getting too bold these days, Mr. Husband. Be careful… that can be dangerous." I ran my fingers through the back of her hair, tilting her chin ever so slightly toward me. "Sweetheart...," I murmured, eyes dark and steady, "I like danger. Easy has never been my way."
She leaned closer, lips a breath away from mine."You're playing with fire. Don't forget… fire burns." I smirked. "Maybe I'm willing to burn… if it means burning for you." She pushed against my chest, cheeks flushed like a cherry blossom set on fire. "You're impossible!" she whispered, quickly standing up. I rose too. Slowly. Powerfully. I caught her by the waist before she could take another step. I placed her gently on my feet, our bodies pressed again as if we were made to fit that way. I leaned in, grinning as I gently pulled at her cheeks with both hands. "If that's true… then why are these beautiful cheeks of yours so red, sweetheart?" She gasped, immediately covering her face with both palms. Embarrassed, she pushed me back — I stumbled onto the couch— and then spun away, sprinting toward her room like a flustered hurricane. "You're insane!" she shouted over her shoulder, her laughter echoing—wild, chaotic, and impossible to ignore. But as she ran, she was almost at the door—about to crash into it head-first. With one leap, I flew from the couch she nearly collided with the door, and just as her head was about to slam against the hardwood, my hand came between it. "Careful," I whispered, standing close enough to feel her breath hitch. She stared at me, eyes wide, lips parted. The tension swirled around us like a current. Then she looked away, flustered and glowing, and slipped into her room, shutting the door behind her. I leaned against the door, running a hand through my hair and letting out a low, amused chuckle. "Get ready, my fire". I called out. "You already know… we're going somewhere far today."
The soft aroma of breakfast drifted through the house as I set the final plate on the table—everything prepared just the way she liked it: crispy at the edges, tender in the center, with a hint of sweetness. Wiping my hands, I walked toward her room, pausing quietly outside the door. "Breakfast is ready, beautiful. "Come quick before it gets cold," I called out, my voice teasing and warm. Her voice floated from the other side, muffled yet sweet, "I'm on my way… just five minutes!". I chuckled softly. "Alright, but don't keep me waiting too long." Ten minutes slipped by. Then fifteen. Still no sign of her. I leaned against the door, arms folded, and knocked once more. "What are you doing in there? You never take this long… I swear, I'm coming in." "No—wait! I'm coming! Just a minute!" she called out in a panic. But it was too late. I turned the handle and pushed open the door… only to freeze mid-step. She stood in the middle of the room—hair wild like a storm had passed through it, half-curled, half-tangled, a curling iron in one hand, and frustration painted over her delicate face. I blinked. Then let out a deep laugh, unable to hold it in. "What… what is this chaos, sweetheart? Did a tornado fall in love with your hair? ". She turned, cheeks flushed pink. "You're terrible! " she scolded, marching up to me and giving me a gentle punch in the chest. "How can you just laugh at me like that? "
I caught her wrist before she could pull away and pulled her closer. "Okay, okay… I swear, I won't laugh again," I said, still grinning. "But tell me, what exactly are you trying to do here? Starting a fire with your hair?". She pouted, biting her lower lip. "I was trying to curl it… to look pretty…" Her voice lowered to a murmur. "But it's not working, and now I feel like a mess… it's frustrating." I gently cupped her face, brushing away a stray strand that fell over her cheek. Her eyes locked with mine—vulnerable, frustrated, soft. "To look pretty?" I whispered, my thumb grazing her jaw. "You're already dangerously beautiful… are you planning to kill me this morning or what?". She scoffed, cheeks growing redder, and tried to step away, but I pulled her gently back, one arm slipping around her waist. "You don't understand…" she muttered under her breath. I tilted her face up to me. "Maybe not. But I do understand one thing—you deserve to feel like the queen you are." I brushed my lips against her forehead. "Let me help you." Her eyes sparkled. "Really? You'd do my hair? ". "With pleasure," I murmured, tugging at her cheek playfully. "Now sit, my lady."
I led her to the vanity and made her sit down, her back to me. She watched me in the mirror with a curious smile, her eyes still sleepy but twinkling with amusement. "Close your eyes, my queen," I whispered. She obeyed, slowly letting her lashes fall, trusting me. I ran my fingers slowly through her hair—untangling, smoothing, memorizing every strand like it was a secret only I could hold. Her skin shivered when my knuckles brushed her neck, and the corners of her lips curled ever so slightly. Carefully, I picked up the curler and began working through her hair—soft curls forming like waves across her shoulders. The intimacy of the moment was unspoken but thick in the air. Every time I leaned in to tuck a curl behind her ear, I felt her breath catch against my skin. And now and then, I'd pause—captivated by the reflection of the woman I loved, radiant and glowing in the soft morning light.
When I finished, I slowly lowered myself onto one knee behind her. Her back was turned, completely unaware of the silent grip she still held on my heart—wrapped in the morning light like a secret waiting to be unwrapped. With reverence, I brushed her silky hair aside and pressed a slow, intoxicating kiss on her neck, just below her ear. My voice, low and dangerous, whispered against her skin, "Open your eyes, my queen... it's done." She opened them slowly, like a dreamer waking, and when her gaze found her reflection in the mirror, a breath caught in her throat. Her lips parted, eyes widening with wonder. She stood so fast, then threw her arms around me in a warm, excited hug, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. "You're perfect, Mr. Husband... you can seriously do everything," she said, voice bubbling with joy. I caught her hands gently and turned her around, pulling her close. I rested my chin on her shoulder, breathing her in. "Anything for my queen," I whispered. She giggled, brushing her nose against mine. "You did it so perfectly. It's like… magic." But then, without warning, she narrowed her eyes and slipped out of my arms. Climbing onto the bed with deliberate slowness, she perched like a tigress watching her prey.
"Tell me something," she said, her tone light, but her gaze sharp. "Have you done this for someone else before? Curled her hair? Made her feel special too?" There it was—jealousy. Delicious. Dangerous. Twisting through her like a slow flame. Her eyes held fire, but her pout was so tempting I forgot how to breathe. I walked toward her, slow and composed, then scooped her into my arms like she weighed nothing. Her body pressed close—too close to resist. My lips brushed her ear. "You were the first... and you'll be the last," I said in a voice that left no room for doubt. "There's no space—no breath, no heartbeat—for anyone else. Just you. Always you." And before she could speak, I crushed my mouth onto hers in a kiss that held everything—desire, desperation, devotion. She kissed me back like she wanted to tear the truth from my soul. When we parted at last, her lips were swollen and soft, breath catching unevenly, cheeks flushed with a delicate, rosy glow. "Okay... okay, I believe you now," she said with a shy smirk, trying to tame the wild blush on her face. But then she glanced at the clock and groaned. "Damn... we need to go or we'll be late. You know how far we have to travel today." I smirked and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Fine... let's go. But I swear you owe me for stopping that kiss."
She bit her lip and winked. "Then hurry up, Mr. Husband... I plan on repaying that debt in full."
After six long hours on the road, the sun was dipping low, painting the sky in hues of amber and violet as we finally reached our destination. The night stretched before us, alive with the electric promise of danger and desire waiting to ignite. We arrived at the dimly lit bar. Tonight was no ordinary night—this was where the dance troupe preparing for Andrew's party would perform, a preview soaked in mystery and allure. The air buzzed with anticipation as we slid into our seats, the soft murmur of the crowd blending with the pulsing beats. We slid into our seats just as the music began—exotic, hypnotic rhythms that pulled everyone into their spell. The dancers moved like fire and silk, a breathtaking Arabic troupe spinning stories with their bodies. She leaned closer, her voice a whisper wrapped in honey, "They're incredible, aren't they?". I nodded, but her gaze locked onto me—dangerous, sharp. "I think you're a little too interested in them," she teased, a hint of challenge curling her lips. "They are quite attractive... don't you think?". I caught the flicker of jealousy in her eyes and reached out, tracing the sharp line of her cheekbone with a gentle finger.
A laugh escaped me, light and warm. "Yes, they're stunning... but not nearly as much as you." My eyes held hers with quiet fire. "When the most beautiful woman in the world is sitting right next to me, how could anyone else get my attention?". Her smile softened, and I rested my head against her shoulder. "See?" I said, "I've closed my eyes. Now, I only see you. In my thoughts... my world." I shut my eyes and leaned into her warmth. Her hand came up to cup my face, soft and sure. "No need for that," she breathed. "I already know you're not like other men." But even as the show played out, I couldn't stop stealing glances at her—my true wonder, my real enchantment. As the final note lingered and faded, we slipped into the dining area, the hum of the crowd wrapping around us like a restless tide.
We moved to the dining area, where a pole dance continued to captivate the room. Dinner passed in a blur, and then she stood. Then she excused herself. "Darling, I need to use the restroom," she said softly, slipping away. Left alone, I scrolled through my phone until suddenly, a dancer approached—sliding close with a dangerous smile, her fingers brushing me with bold intent. "Ma'am, you should leave," I said firmly, trying to keep my distance. She only laughed softly. "What's your name, handsome?". Before I could respond, Eva appeared—like a storm unleashed. In an instant, she seized the woman's hair from behind and ripped her away with fierce, unrelenting force. "You come near him again, and I'll tell you a name you'll never forget," she hissed. I stood, shaking with laughter that I barely controlled—her fierce protectiveness was terrifying and utterly irresistible. Pointing a fierce finger at the woman, she warned, "He's mine. My husband. Don't even think about his shadow, or I'll make sure you never stand on your feet again. Understand?"
Every eye in the room was on us now, electricity crackling in the air. Without hesitation, I scooped her into my arms, heart pounding, and ran toward the door. Her voice chased me—angry, wild, full of fire—as she cursed the woman who dared to touch what was hers. Outside, under the cool night sky, I set her down. Her chest heaved with frustration. "Why did you pull me away? I could've taught her a lesson. How dare she touch you?". I smiled gently, brushing a stray hair from her flushed face. "Calm down. Let it go." "No," she snapped, eyes blazing. "I'm not shutting up. Why do you always want to silence me? You can't shut me up."
I grinned, leaning closer, voice low and dangerous. "Oh, but I can... and I will."
Before she could protest, I slipped off my coat and draped it over her shoulders. Her eyes widened, but before a single word could leave her lips, I pulled her to me—and kissed her. The world fell away. A spark—wild and unruly—ignited between us, like dry leaves surrendering to flame, flaring into a fire neither of us could control, only feel as if it devoured the distance, the doubt, and everything in between. Her breath hitched. Mine disappeared entirely. My hands slid into her hair, threading through the soft strands like they belonged there. Her lips parted, trembling with anticipation, and I didn't hold back. Our mouths moved in a rhythm dripping with heat and hunger, slow and aching one moment, then desperate the next. Her hands fisted the fabric at my chest, pulling me closer until there wasn't even breath between us. I could feel her heartbeat through her skin—racing, alive, matching the wild tempo of mine. She pressed into me, melting, surrendering, yet holding on like I was the only thing tethering her to the ground. She gasped softly against my mouth, and that sound unraveled something in me. Something primal. My grip on her tightened, possessive, protective. The kiss deepened, and the air around us grew heavier, electric. Her body against mine was like a secret I'd been waiting my whole life to uncover. Sweet, warm, trembling. Her sigh against my lips was a confession, and her arms around my neck felt like a promise I never wanted to break.