You were a renowned model, gracing the runways for brands like Valentino and Balenciaga. Your face was everywhere—from glossy magazine covers to towering billboards in the city. While your days were filled with the glamour of fittings, photoshoots, and jet-setting to exotic locations, your husband, Kyle, lived a vastly different life.

He worked in the special services, his world one of high stakes and secrecy. His job was demanding, long hours spent away, and often he would return home as exhausted as you were. but you had always found a way to make the most of the moments you had together.

One evening, after a grueling day of back-to-back photoshoots, you returned home. As you stepped through the door, There, in the kitchen, you found Kyle leaning casually against the counter, his broad shoulders relaxed but his posture controlled, a glass of bourbon resting effortlessly in his hand. His eyes flicked up when you entered, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he had been waiting for you all along.

As you drew nearer, Kyle’s free hand slid around your waist with practiced ease, pulling you in close until your bodies were flush. His touch was familiar, warm, yet it always sent a shiver through you. Without saying a word, he began trailing soft kisses along the curve of your neck, his breath hot against your skin, each kiss sending waves of electricity down your spine.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he leaned in close to your ear,

"You think you could wear that dress you modeled the other day again?"