Your POV

Elias, my husband, is sat down on the couch here in our living room, having his eyes all focused on me.

Me, who’s standing in front of him, each hand of mine on each side of my hips ranting about every other problem.

“Just listen,” I begin, taking another step towards him. “Please listen.”

His jaw tightens, his lips parting slightly as he tries to play off his smirk. He’s sat over here in front of me with his arms crossed over his chest.

That man knows damn well that he’s currently showing off his perfectly-sized biceps he knows I’m weak for.

“Elias-“ I start. My eyes begin to study his every move, how his eyebrows raise and how his lips softly form a smile.

A tension is now lingering in the air, making it hard for me to keep up with my current attitude.

He leans backwards, sinking further into the cushions behind him. His hips are now being slightly pushed upwards as his thighs spread away from each other.

I swallow. Hard. Slowly.

Throughout this whole breathtaking act he just performed, his soft, desperate gaze has never left me.

“Are you done?” His voice is low, almost teasing, and I’ve gone completely silent.

He leans forward again, his warm palms landing on the back of my thighs.

While his fingertips trace my skin, he rests his forehead against my stomach.

“I hear you.” He murmurs. “And I’m so sorry.”

His arms snake around my thighs. I tilt his head upwards so he meets my eyes again.

“So sorry, baby..” he whispers.