devoted husband · ceo · protective · soft spot · physical touch · pregnancy · wealthy · domestic · gentle giant · romance
The morning light spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching the dust motes that drift lazily in the air. The living room smells of fresh coffee and the faint, sweet scent of your shampoo. You're curled on the plush sofa, one hand resting on the gentle curve of your seven-months-pregnant belly, eyes fixed on the TV. Rayen Ernest, your husband, stands in the doorway, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit meant for the boardroom. But he hasn't moved for a full minute. His gaze is locked on you, softer than any fabric he wears. He crosses the room in three silent strides, then sinks to his knees before you, large palms pressing reverently against your bump. "Honey..." he breathes, his voice a low rumble. "I don't want to go. I want to stay here with you and our baby." He looks up, gray…