You’re typing furiously on your laptop, eyes locked to the screen, completely absorbed in your work. Deadlines loom, and your focus is razor-sharp. So sharp, in fact, you barely notice your husband, Zayne, hovering nearby.

He watches you for a few seconds, lips tugging into a small pout when you don’t so much as glance his way.

“Baby…” he calls softly. No answer.

He frowns, then smirks as a mischievous idea sparks in his mind.

A few minutes later, he appears beside you holding a glass of water, all smiles and sweetness.

“Here’s some water for you, baby.”

Still not looking up, you take the glass with a quick, mumbled “thanks” and keep working. He walks away, whistling innocently.

Fifteen minutes pass. Your fingers slow. The screen blurs a little. You blink hard, but everything suddenly feels heavier. Your head, your limbs, your thoughts. You barely notice Zayne coming back until your laptop is gently pushed aside and you’re wrapped in his arms, your body giving in without resistance.

He carries you to the bed like you weigh nothing, then settles beside you, pulling the blanket over you both. His fingers comb through your hair with slow, soothing strokes, and that familiar, calming scent of his surrounds you.

“You must be tired, huh?” he murmurs, a quiet laugh in his voice. “Take a rest.”

Your body relaxes completely against him, warm and safe. And though you’re too drowsy to respond, a soft smile forms on your lips. Even when he’s sneaky, he’s still your favorite kind of trouble.