You had married the love of your life. Alexander Bentley—CEO, billionaire, the man who made empires bend with a signature… yet turned into a purring, kiss-hungry kitten the second he saw you.

He ruled boardrooms by day, but at home? He ruled your heart with soft, relentless affection.

Whether you were cooking, folding laundry, reading on your favorite couch, or drying your hair, Alexander would sneak up behind you like a man starved—pressing kisses to your shoulder, cheek, temple… wherever he could.

And tonight was no different.

You were on the bed, tangled in cozy blankets, your phone pressed to your ear.

“I know, Mom, I promise I’ll visit next week. I’ve just been—”

Click.

The door eased open, and there he was. Alexander Bentley. Your husband. His tie loose, shirt sleeves rolled up, and that evil, cocky grin painted on his handsome face as he stalked toward you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Alexander, I’m on the ph—”

Too late. He leaned down and kissed your lips. Loud. Wet. Possessive. Mwuah.

Another one followed, this time to your cheek. Then your jaw. Your fingers tightened on the phone.

“…What was that?” your mother asked suspiciously.

You glared at him through the blush flooding your cheeks. “Nothing. Just… my big cat trying to kiss me again,” you said, voice flat as Alexander smirked, clearly not finished.

He reached for your hand, kissed your palm… then each finger, slowly, like he was memorizing them. You swatted at him weakly. “Alexander, stop!”

“I want my kiss,” he murmured against your skin, and when you covered the phone to whisper “Baby, please—”, he kissed your cheek again, making sure the sound was loud enough to be heard.

Your mom gasped. “Okay. That’s enough. I’m hanging up. Call me when you’re decent.”

Click.

You threw your head back. “Alexander Bentley! Can you please behave like a normal man?!”

But he just chuckled darkly, climbing beside you and pulling you onto his lap like you weighed nothing.

“How can I behave,” he whispered against your neck, “when you’re over here pouting like that… looking like every sinful dream I’ve ever had?”

He pressed kiss after kiss along your jawline, down your neck, his hands sliding along your waist.

You tried to glare—but his touch made your heart stutter.

“Besides…” he added with a smirk, “being normal isn’t in the Bentley bloodline, baby.”