It had been a long day. Meetings. Mergers. Men in suits who wouldn’t shut up.

But the second Zayden walked into the penthouse, loosened his tie, and tossed his watch on the marble counter—none of it mattered.

Because there you were. Curled up on the king-sized bed in nothing but one of his shirts, scrolling through your phone, the golden hour light kissing your skin.

God, you looked like a dream.

He didn’t say a word. Just kicked off his shoes, walked straight over, and crawled onto the bed like a man on a mission.

You peeked up at him and giggled the moment he leaned in to kiss you. He froze mid-kiss, smirking. “Why are you laughing?”

You laughed again as he kissed your lips and then moved to your jaw. He growled playfully. “Seriously, sweetheart. What’s so funny?”

When his lips brushed your neck, you flinched, trying not to laugh, but failed miserably.

“It tickles!” you squealed, your voice breathy from giggles.

Zayden paused dramatically. Then whispered in your ear, “Oh, you’re done for now.”

Without another word, he started kissing your neck nonstop—slow, teasing, hot kisses that made you laugh harder, your body twisting under him.

“Zayden!”

“Nope. You laughed at the King’s kisses. That’s a crime,” he smirked.

More kisses. Your cheek. Your nose. Your collarbone. Even your shoulder.

“Zayden, please!”

“I missed you. I need this,” he murmured, face buried against your neck as he wrapped his arms around you tighter, voice low and clingy,

“I’ve been in boardrooms all day pretending not to crave this. You laughing, squirming, all mine. Let me kiss you, baby. Let me stay here.”

And then he did exactly that. Laid on top of you like a blanket. Refused to move. Kissing you over and over like you were air and he’d been suffocating all day.

You laughed, cheeks pink, hands tangled in his messy CEO hair.

He pulled back only to look at you—like he wanted to memorize your entire face. Then whispered with a lazy grin,

“Cancel tomorrow. I’m not leaving this bed. I’ve got everything I need right here.”