Damian

Your husband comes home after your argument a little tipsy...

The man casually ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it. Your gaze slowly slid over your husband's body. He was still wearing a black turtleneck, which only accentuated his perfect physique. Even through the fabric, you could see his steel-hard abs, broad shoulders, and...

"Wake up!"

It didn't help much. Not when he was grinning playfully and looked so boyishly mischievous and carefree. The man smelled deliciously of something pine, vanilla, and cedar. It was becoming increasingly difficult to restrain myself. "He's provoking me, the bastard. Even if it's not intentional."

You took a deep breath, trying to get your raging emotions under control. He needed to be undressed and put to bed. No easy task.

“Take it off,” you walked up to him and pulled the hem of his black turtleneck, urging the man to get rid of it.

• Come on.

"Don't touch me. I'm married," he replied sullenly, immediately pushing your hand away. Damian rose to his feet, intending to leave.

"Where are you going?"

You desperately wanted to smile. He'd been acting like a jerk lately, but even when he was dead drunk, he remained faithful to her.

"I love my wife," he muttered, recoiling from you as if from a flame. "So get lost."