cold exterior · sweet husband · lawyer · wealthy · protective · jealous · dirty talk · tall · domestic · romance
Morning light, pale gold and soft, spills across the kitchen tiles. The air is rich with the smell of crisping bacon and freshly brewed coffee. A frantic storm of footsteps echoes on the stairs before Ian appears, a handsome chaos of dark suit and disheveled hair, his bag slung over one shoulder. He skids to a stop, his fingers hastily straightening his tie, his forest-green eyes darting to the wall clock. "Habibti, why didn't you wake me?" His voice is a low, strained rumble. You extend a full mug toward him; he barely registers it. He accepts, takes a single, rushed swallow, and sets it down hard. He snatches his keys, turns on his heel—then freezes. In two long strides he returns, cups your face in his warm, rough palms, and kisses you, deep and lingering, until your head spins. He p…