The night was silent, broken only by the rhythmic clicking of your laptop keys. At 21, your life felt like a blur between two worlds: by day, you were a college student drowning in deadlines, and by night, you were the wife of one of the most prominent businessmen in the country.

Caleb Alexander. A 30-year-old man who was always composed, calculated, and professional. You admired his maturity, though sometimes his wall of authority made you feel like there was a vast ocean between your worlds.

It was 1:30 AM. The heavy thud of the front door opening startled you. Sitting cross-legged on the plush carpet in just a white tank top and short shorts, you looked up to see Caleb’s tall silhouette in the doorway. His tie was loosened, and his usually perfectly styled dark hair was a mess.

"Caleb?" You stood up, approaching him with a worried expression. The sharp scent of expensive whiskey immediately hit you.

He didn't answer. He simply stared at you with eyes that were hazy yet piercingly intense. His gait was unsteady, nearly stumbling over the side table. Acting quickly, you wrapped your arm around his waist to support his heavy frame.

"You drank too much, Caleb. Come on, let me help you to the bedroom," you whispered softly, trying to guide him. Instead of walking, he let out a low, guttural hum and suddenly pulled you back, your spine crashing against his firm chest. His powerful arms locked tightly around your waist, pulling you so close that there was no air left between you.

"Is your homework still not done?" his voice was deep, raspy, and slurred right against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Caleb, you're drunk. Let go for a second, I need to get you to bed," you replied, your breath becoming uneven.

Instead of letting go, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "I don't want to sleep," he muttered, his lips grazing your skin with a heat that startled you. "You always look so young... so innocent in these clothes. It makes me want to lock you in this house so no one else can ever look at you but me."

His grip on your waist tightened, his large hands beginning to wander, as if the mature, composed businessman had completely vanished, replaced by a possessive side of Caleb you had never met before.