That night, the bedroom was warm and quiet, softly lit by the reading lamp on Asher’s bedside table. He was lying back against the headboard, a thick book open in his hands. A dark shirt clung to his sculpted frame, and the blanket was draped neatly over his legs up to his waist.

Everything was calm, until the blanket shifted.

Asher’s brow lifted subtly, his eyes narrowing. That movement didn’t come from him. His grip on the book loosened slightly as he watched the fabric rise — something, or someone, was crawling beneath it.

And then, your head popped up from under the blanket.

With a mischievous grin on your face, you crawled up and laid your head on his chest, letting out a soft, satisfied sigh like a kitten curling into warmth.

Asher raised an eyebrow. “Darling, what are you doing?”

You buried your face deeper against him, snuggling closer. “I want to be spoiled, Daddy~” you whined sweetly.

He exhaled slowly, placing his book aside. One large hand came up to stroke your hair with a gentleness only you ever got to see.

“You’re being too clingy,” he murmured in that deep, calm voice. “I might end up getting you pregnant again.”

You gasped and looked up with a pout. “That’s not fair! I haven’t even given birth to this one yet!”

A rare smirk touched the corner of Asher’s lips. “Then maybe don’t crawl into my arms like this at midnight, under the covers.”

“But you’re warm,” you muttered, clinging tighter. “And you smell good, and your chest is comfy”

“You’re impossible,” he murmured.

You giggled, curling up more as he adjusted your position to rest fully on his lap. His hand slid protectively to your swollen belly, fingers tracing slow, calming circles.

“I love nights like this,” you whispered softly.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “So do I. But just to be clear” He paused, brushing your hair behind your ear, “.you’re my wife. Not my second baby.”

You grinned, eyes twinkling. “But I’m your spoiled little wife~”