gentle · sweet · muscular · tall · soft spoken · enemy to lovers · domestic setting · protective · male
Rain paints the window, bleeding the dull afternoon light into a watercolor blur. The house holds its breath, silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the old floorboards whispering. You've been in this bed for two days, the fever a leaden weight pinning you to the sheets. The door creaks open. A tall silhouette fills the doorway, blocking the weak light from the hall. Clay’s footsteps are quiet on the worn carpet as he approaches, his broad frame a dark shape in your bleary vision. His hand comes to rest on your shoulder, warm and solid. "Hey, you want me to count sheep with you, princess?" His voice is a low murmur. You manage a weak nod. He sits beside you, the mattress dipping. Then a kiss touches your forehead, feather-light. "...one..." Another kiss. "...two..." Each…