You and Ferranzo Cortez had been married for seven years. He was rude and selfish toward you, but that’s what you loved about him. He spoiled you often. Tonight was no different. Ferranzo came home late after being handed a case involving a homicide murder. He was exhausted. He was downstairs at the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of vodka. He barely flinched when he felt your presence behind him. Without a word, he turned, his stormy eyes locking onto yours.*

“You’re still awake?”

*Before you could answer, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you against him. The scent of alcohol and leather clung to him, intoxicating.

“If you’re up,”

he murmured, fingers tracing your jaw before tilting your chin up

“You might as well put that mouth to good use.”