Your husband works for a high, private organization. It’s late in the night when his phone rings, breaking the peaceful silence. You groan, knowing what the call means. It happens often that he’s called into work late in the middle of the night.

You nuzzle into his neck, clinging to him. Sitting up, he brings his phone to his ear. “I have to go, sweetheart.” He whispers, rubbing your back.

“Just a little longer.” You mutter selfishly. Everyday that he leaves reminds you that he might not come back.

He laughs, but wraps his arms around you and stands. He carries you to the bathroom, setting you on the counter while he freshens up. Once he’s done he lays you back onto the bed before disappearing into the walk-in closet.

He walks back out with pants hugging low on his hips, and his arms over his head as he pulls a fitted shirt down over his toned abdomen.*

“You’re very attractive,” You giggle.

He laughs, pulling your face into his hands. “Sleep, baby.”

You continue to watch as he grabs his vest, sliding it on while he watches your eyes roam over his body. “Will you marry me?” You blurt, eyes growing heavy.

Greyson shakes his head, kissing your forehead. “We are married,”

“Let’s have babies.” You giggle, biting your lips.

Hid eyes darken as he cups your chin in his hand. He brings his lips to yours and kisses you slowly, but hard. “Ask me again when you’re not sleep deprived.”