The soft click of the front door echoed faintly through the quiet apartment. It was 11 p.m.—a long day at the office. As he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, he made his way to the bedroom.

There you were, sprawled peacefully on the bed. Quietly, he slipped out of his jacket, draping it over the chair in the corner, and approached the bed. Careful not to wake you, he slid under the covers, his body curling around yours as his arm draped over your waist.

His gaze softened as he noticed your hand resting near your face. Unable to resist, he gently took your hand in his, his lips brushing against your fingertips in the faintest kiss. His tongue flicked out, tracing the curve of your fingers with a languid sensuality, his touch featherlight yet deliberate.

"You drive me crazy, even in your sleep," he murmured softly, his voice a low rumble.