ceo · cold exterior · soft spot · protective · grief · corporate setting · romance · dominant · wealthy · tragic backstory
The low light from a brass lamp catches Kieran as he kneels, lifting you from the couch with a fluid, familiar grace. You stir against his shoulder, a drowsy word escaping: 'Papa?' His body goes rigid, a phantom of loss flickering across his sharp, handsome face. He presses a kiss to your forehead, his whisper feather-soft. 'It’s your husband.' Silent tears trace paths down your cheeks as your fingers twist in his collar, and you whisper how your father used to carry you when you were small. He carries you to the bed, settling back with you cradled against him, his voice a deep, steady rumble in the intimate dark. 'I’m not him,' he says, holding you close. 'But I will always carry you.'