It was around six in the evening when the front door clicked open and the handle jiggled before he stepped inside.

He looked exhausted, the kind of tired that settled into his shoulders after a long day. Yet the first thing he did wasn't loosen his tie or kick off his shoes. His eyes instinctively swept across the living room, searching for me.

He usually found me there—either curled up on the couch watching TV or tucked into one corner with my laptop balanced on my knees. But when the room was empty, a small crease formed between his brows.

"Where are you?" he called.

I peeked out from the bedroom, already halfway dressed to leave.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his eyes slowly traveling from my face to my shoes.

"Just somewhere. I'll be back in an hour or so."

"But where are you going?" he asked again while I secured my hair with a clip.

I could have told him.

Really, there was no reason not to.

Except... I didn't think I'd actually be able to say it out loud.

So instead, I simply smiled.

"I'll be back soon. I promise."

His gaze lingered on me for another second before he disappeared into the washroom without another word.

A few minutes later, he walked back out in casual clothes, picked up the car keys from the counter, and looked at me.

"Let's go."

It wasn't exactly a suggestion.

The firmness in his voice caught me completely off guard.

"Yo... you're coming with me?" I asked.

"Hmm." He slipped the keys around his finger. "Is that a problem?"

I lowered my eyes, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips.

It certainly wasn't going to be a problem for me.

For him, though...

Well, he'd find out soon enough.

As we pulled up outside the store, I asked him to stop.

He parked without asking any questions, but the moment he actually looked at the sign above the entrance, his entire expression changed.

First confusion.

Then realization.

Then complete and utter embarrassment.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing.

Now he understood why I'd been so reluctant to tell him where I was going.

"Yo... you go ahead," he mumbled, suddenly finding the steering wheel incredibly interesting. "I'll wait in the car."

I didn't move.

Instead, I turned toward him and simply stared.

"You wanted to come with me," I reminded him. "Now come in."

He looked around the parking lot as though a miraculous escape route might suddenly appear.

Unfortunately for him...

It didn't.

I folded my arms across my chest and continued staring.

He let out the most dramatic sigh I'd heard all week before finally climbing out of the car.

I followed with a grin I didn't even bother hiding.

The store was almost empty.

Being a weekday evening, only one cashier occupied the front counter, her attention completely devoted to her phone.

Perfect.

No audience.

Just him.

I deliberately slowed my pace, wandering through every aisle imaginable.

Candles.

Lotions.

Random skincare products.

Things I had absolutely no intention of buying.

I inspected each shelf with great seriousness while he trailed behind me like a lost puppy, somehow managing to look everywhere except at the products surrounding him.

The poor man had suddenly become fascinated by the ceiling.

By the floor.

By emergency exit signs.

Anything but the shelves.

By the time we reached the aisle I'd actually come for, he already looked like he regretted every life decision that had brought him there.

I casually searched through the neatly arranged rows until I found my size.

The second I picked one up...

I heard him clear his throat.

When I glanced back, his ears were already turning pink.

Oh...

This was fun.

Far more fun than I'd imagined.

I picked another.

Then another.

By now, he wasn't even trying to hide how flustered he was.

I had no idea I possessed this much power.

Once I was happy with my little collection, I started walking toward the checkout.

Before I'd taken more than two steps, I felt gentle fingers wrap around my wrist.

"Tha... that's not going to cover anything," he muttered, gesturing toward my hands.

"Hmm... I know."

"You... you can't wear those outside."

"I know."

I looked up at him with the most innocent expression I could manage.

His poor brain looked seconds away from shutting down.

"Then why in the world are you buying those?"

"Because I want to wear them at home."

He blinked.

"At home, I don't need coverage." I smiled sweetly. "I just need support. These will do just fine."

His mouth opened.

Then closed.

Then opened again.

I decided to make things even worse.

"Besides," I added casually, "the sheerer the fabric, the better my skin can breathe."

And with that, I walked away before he could recover.

He followed behind me in complete silence, dragging one hand roughly through his perfectly styled dark hair until it stuck out in every direction.

Mission accomplished.

I placed the bras on the counter.

The cashier barely glanced up.

She scanned them one after another before asking,

"Cash or card?"

I looked toward him.

"Ask him."

The cashier looked between us.

"He's paying."

He let out an exhausted grunt and gave me a look that promised revenge someday before fishing his wallet from his back pocket.

A second later, his card slid across the counter.

Purchase complete.

The drive home was unusually quiet.

I spent most of it smiling to myself.

Every now and then, I'd steal a glance at him.

He still looked flustered.

A little annoyed.

Very confused.

But there was something else hidden beneath all of that.

Something I couldn't quite place.

Something strangely warm.

The moment we reached home, I headed straight toward the bedroom.

"What are you doing?" he called after me.

I lifted the paper bag.

"Trying these on."

His entire face froze.

Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, a deep crimson spread from his cheeks all the way to his ears.

Without saying another word, he made a tactical retreat to the couch, grabbed the TV remote, and turned the television on with far more enthusiasm than anyone had ever shown a remote before.

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

Embarrassing him had turned out to be much more entertaining than I'd expected.

-----

She walked out wearing a loose white T-shirt—probably one of my old ones she'd stolen—and a pair of shorts.

Through the thin fabric, I could make out the faint hint of red underneath.

One of the bras we'd just bought.

But my attention wasn't on the color beneath the shirt.

It was fixed on the thin red strap resting against her exposed shoulder.

I knew exactly what she was wearing under that oversized T-shirt, and the thought alone was enough to make my imagination spiral.

I had practically glued myself to the couch because I knew the second I stood up, I'd be risking exposing exactly how much she affected me.

She wandered into the kitchen, and I heard cupboards opening, utensils clinking together, the refrigerator door opening and shutting.

She was making dinner.

Meanwhile, all I could think about was her.

Even though we were married, I hadn't touched her.

Neither of us had chosen this marriage. Our families had.

But somewhere between moving into my apartment—our apartment now—and settling into everyday life together, we'd become... comfortable.

She was beautiful.

That much was impossible to deny.

But what drew me in even more was how effortlessly intelligent she was. She couldn't cook to save her life, but I didn't mind taking over that department.

Lately, though...

Something had changed.

Since our wedding night, we'd shared the same bed. But over the past few weeks, she'd started curling into my arms while she slept.

And I found that I didn't mind it.

Not even a little.

We never did anything more than sleep.

Yet somehow, it was the most peaceful sleep I'd ever had.

Sometimes she'd mumble complete nonsense in her dreams, and I'd have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing.

Her hands wandered too.

Sometimes around my neck.

Sometimes across my chest.

Sometimes clutching my arm as though I might disappear if she let go.

She never remembered any of it the next morning.

She was fast asleep every single time.

But...

I'd started looking forward to it.

Maybe even craving it.

Not because she did it unknowingly.

Because I wished she'd do it while she was awake.

I glanced back toward the kitchen.

She was reheating the leftovers from breakfast.

My eyes drifted upward again.

That red strap.

This woman had the potential to drive me completely insane.

I pushed myself off the couch.

"I'm just going to change," I called.

She turned around with an easy smile.

"Dinner's ready," she announced just as the microwave chimed.

How exactly was I supposed to tell my wife that the meal waiting on the table wasn't the one I was hungry for?

"I'll be back."

I escaped into the bathroom.

The cold water crashed over my shoulders, cooling the heat burning beneath my skin.

It helped.

Just not enough.

I am still rock hard, and I know no number of cold showers are going to settle me back down.

So, I do the only logical thing…

I wrap my hand around the base and tug once. Hard, making it almost painful for myself. I closed my eyes and leaned against the tiled wall, willing my thoughts to settle.

Instead, they only became clearer.

Her oversized white T-shirt.

That impossible red strap.

The smile she'd given me.

A dangerous thought crept into my mind.

What would it be like if she were standing here beside me?

Her shirt soaked through.

Her dark chocolate hair clinging to her shoulders.

Droplets tracing the curve of her face before slipping past those soft, rosy lips.

The image was so vivid it stole my breath.

Would she smile?

Would she panic?

Or...

Would she be just as overwhelmed as I was?

Would she let me kiss her?

Would she let me hold her?

Or would I have to be content simply standing close enough to look?

I didn't know.

Maybe I never would.

The question that lingered most, though, surprised even me.

Would she ever look at me the way I looked at her?

I wasn't unattractive.

I'd always taken care of myself.

Still...

She was effortlessly beautiful.

I let out a long breath, trying to push the thoughts away and realised that I had already brought myself to climax just thinking about her, but I wasn’t fully soft yet.

Several minutes later, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist.

The moment I walked into the bedroom...

I stopped dead.

She stood with her bare back to me, completely unaware I'd entered.

Her fingers reached behind her as she adjusted the strap of another bra we'd bought.

I guessed she wasn't quite finished trying them on.

Every instinct screamed at me to look away.

Instead, I stood frozen.

She fastened the hooks behind her back before adjusting the cups with practised ease.

Then she turned.

Our eyes met.

Time seemed to stop.

Neither of us moved.

Neither of us spoke.

By the time I realized I'd been staring far longer than I should have, she'd already reached for the same oversized white T-shirt and pulled it over her head.

"Fuck..." I muttered under my breath.

Heat rushed to my face.

I had just been caught openly admiring my own wife.

A deep blush spread across her cheeks, slowly creeping down her neck.

For one terrifying second, I expected her to yell.

Or slap me.

Or demand to know what was wrong with me.

Instead...

She quietly walked past me and left the bedroom.

I dragged a hand down my face.

Great.

She probably thinks I'm a complete creep.

I hurriedly got dressed before following after her, mentally rehearsing a hundred different apologies.

"I'm sorry."

The words came out the moment I reached the kitchen.

"I didn't mean to stare. I had no idea you were in the bedroom. I promise... it won't happen again. I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable."

The more I spoke, the worse it sounded.

I was digging myself into a hole so deep I wasn't sure I'd ever climb back out.

She stood silently behind the kitchen island, her head lowered as she stared at the floor.

"Please..." I said softly.

"Just say something."

After what felt like forever, she finally looked up.

Her cheeks were still tinted pink.

"You weren't the only one staring."

That was all she said.

Then she turned around and quietly began serving dinner.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to understand what she'd meant. Nearly a full business week.

And when it finally clicked...

I almost choked on my own saliva.

‘She'd been checking me out too.’