Raef woke up to a strange warmth against his neck. Something wet. Soft. Moving with an indescribable pleasure.
It wasn't a pillow.
And it definitely wasn't his cat.
It was Siyan.
His wife. Or more accurately, his partner in madness.
She was leaning over him, lazily licking his neck with that delicious sleepiness in her eyes, her long orange hair draping over his body like a fiery curtain.
In her husky voice, she murmured,
"Hmm… You taste sweet today. Did you drink coffee in your sleep?"
Without opening his eyes, he replied,
"If you're planning to devour me, start with the left side. I've got a cramp there."
She let out a quiet giggle—then bit his lower lip. Hard.
"Ow… Aren't you a demonic little creature?"
"And you're my husband… Let me have you for breakfast before breakfast."
In less than a minute, the bed turned into a blazing battlefield.
He was naked.
She was wearing only his oversized shirt—the one that always slipped off her shoulders at the most inappropriate moments… or the most perfect ones, from her point of view.
She climbed on top of him like a spoiled cat, clinging to him like he might escape… or maybe she just liked being in charge.
Gasping between her kisses, he muttered,
"I have a meeting in an hour."
"And I have a craving in a minute."
She pushed him down, straddled him confidently, and whispered near his ear,
"I've told you a hundred times… Don't wear those black pants around me. They make your ass irresistible."
"They're just pants!"
"To me? They're a public invitation to commit a crime."
…
One hour later, Raef was sitting in the kitchen, holding an ice pack to his neck, while Siyan sat across from him—fully dressed, sipping her coffee like she hadn't just been nibbling on his fingers a few minutes ago.
He looked at her and said,
"Have you read the Husband's Rights Act?"
She smiled sweetly and answered,
"Only if you read it to me… while I'm tied up."