She comes to him in a thin negligée that leaves little to the imagination, the diamond necklace that he gave her for her birthday only a handful of weeks ago glittering around her throat. Her golden hair curled into loose waves, her lips painted soft pink, that negligée clinging to each curve of her soft body—his thoughts scatter at the very sight, heat simmering low in his belly.
She sits on the edge of their bed, and eases the book from his grasp, smiling slightly with a twinkle in her eye, and as her fingers lightly trace the curve of his cheek, he murmurs the first thought that makes itself clear in the buzzing of his brain.
"Are you trying to seduce me?"
Her hand burns through his nightshirt as she lays it softly against his chest, and as she presses her lips to the corner of his she breathes, "Maybe."
He swallows hard, and feels the soft swell of her breast against him, his heart lurching. "I think it might be working."
The very thought of moving is almost more than he can bear. To get up? And leave the comfortable heat of bed? Leave his dear, soft wife? Disgraceful! Almost blasphemous! They'll have to move sometime of course, but not so soon. If he could spend every moment tucked in safely against her he would, every moment of every day, and her hand light on his chest, her face nuzzled into his neck. It would be cruel of him to move and disturb her.
She sighs, her lips soft against his throats and he tightens his arms around her. "How long do we have?" Her voice is hoarse with sleep and it stirs his heart.
He shifts and reaches past her, lifts his watch from the bedside locker. "Half an hour," he whispers, and gently kisses her hair. "Then we need to move."
"Ugh. I don't want to go in today."
"I know." But they must. The premiere is tomorrow night. They still have preparations to put in place, it's critical that they go in.
"Why can't we just lie here forever?" She lifts her head and looks at him with bleary eyes, her hair a wild mess and his heart lurches at the sight of it. She is so beautiful, so beautiful even now, and tears prickle his eyes as he smiles at her.
"Because I composed an opera, and you are its star."
Her lips twitch though she tries to look annoyed. "Perhaps I ought to forbid you from composing if it's going to disturb us like this."
He can't help the chuckle that rises in his chest. "Perhaps I ought to forbid you from performing if it's going to disturb us like this."
"Darling." But she grins at him, and bows her head and kisses him. "Do we have time for this?" She nips his lip lightly. "Do you think?"
He swallows, and sighs. "I think we can make time for this."