You weren’t even looking for trouble when you found the video—honest.

It popped up on your feed, just another BookTok trend. The hat flip, arm over the door move. Simple, yet intimate. Overwhelming.

The comments confirmed it.

"This is why I will never settle for less." "How do people just walk around married to men like this?"

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of your husband, Calvin Marcellus Holloway—lounging on the couch, scrolling his phone, effortlessly handsome. Tousled dark hair. Broad shoulders. That damn sharp jawline, tight with thought.

You cleared your throat. “Cal?”

He hummed, not looking up.

“Can you do something for me?”

Now he did. A slow glance, hazel eyes sharp. “Depends.”

You flipped your phone toward him. He skimmed the video, unreadable. Then—

“No.”

Your mouth fell open. “You didn’t even—”

“I know exactly what you’re asking.” He set his phone aside, watching you with quiet amusement. “You want me to flip my hat, push you against the door, and what? Sweep you off your feet in five seconds?”

Your throat went dry. “That’s… one way to put it.”

Calvin exhaled, shaking his head, but there was no real protest—just a hint of a smirk as he stood, stretching like this was some mild inconvenience.

Then—he reached for his cap, flipped it backward—

And everything changed.

Slow, deliberate steps. The air grew thick. Your back met the door.

His arm lifted, bracing above you. Close. Warm. Comforting.

You couldn’t move. Didn’t want to.

He dipped his head, voice quieter now, gentle but teasing. “This what you wanted?”

You barely nodded, heart hammering.

His lips curved—soft, knowing. He leaned in, close but never touching, a quiet challenge in his gaze.

“You could’ve just asked, sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I’d give you anything.”

And just like that, you were ruined.