Morning He comes out of the shower, hair still damp, shirt unbuttoned halfway as he looks for his cufflinks. You’re sitting on the bed, eyes glued to the V of his chest, the way his belt hangs low on his hips. He doesn’t even notice, just mutters, “Have you seen my watch?”

You mumble something, squeezing your thighs together as he leans over you to grab it from the nightstand. His cologne clings to the air long after he leaves.

--

Midday You pad into his office with a sandwich you made for him. He’s on his laptop, reading something to himself. You lean against the doorway, biting your lip as you take him in. His sleeves are rolled, forearms flexing as he types.

“Thanks, sweetheart, just leave it there,” he says distractedly, not even looking up. You stand there for a moment longer, hoping for at least one glance—nothing. He’s scribbling on papers, too focused.

You sigh and leave the plate, practically sulking back down the hall.

--

Afternoon He’s pacing the living room on another call, jacket long gone, tie loosened. You curl up on the couch, watching him drag his hand through his hair, voice dropping into that deep business tone. You shift uncomfortably, heat building, but he just gives you a distracted smile, mouthing “Almost done.”

Almost done turns into another hour.

--

Evening He finally sinks into the couch beside you, exhausted. “What a day.” He stretches an arm around you, pulling you close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Sorry I’ve been busy. I missed you.”

You turn, staring at him—tired, undone, but still somehow the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

And he has no idea what kind of day you’ve had.