The heavy adrenaline from his father's pep talk was still coursing through Keifer's veins as he reached their bedroom door.
He had his "Golden Boy" swagger back, his shirt unbuttoned halfway to show off the chest she had so accidentally kissed, and his coat slung over his shoulder like a movie star.
He was ready to shake her world.
He pushed the door open with a confident click, a flirtatious remark already on the tip of his tongue.
"You know, Jay, I was thinking—"
He stopped mid-sentence. The room was bathed in the soft, amber glow of a single bedside lamp.
There was no witty comeback waiting for him.
Instead, the only sound was the rhythmic, peaceful breathing of his wife.
Jay was fast asleep.
Keifer stood there for a long moment, the wind completely taken out of his sails.
He looked at his unbuttoned shirt, then at her curled-up form under the duvet.
"Oh god, what a luck," he muttered to himself, a lopsided, self-deprecating grin tugging at his lips.
All that mental preparation and his father's "war strategy," and he had been defeated by a nap.
He moved quietly, shedding the rest of his clothes and changing into comfortable lounge pants.
The swagger was replaced by a gentle stillness as he climbed into bed beside her.
Jay was facing him, her head resting on a silk pillow. In the soft light, Keifer found himself unable to look away.
From his view, she looked like something fragile and precious.
Her skin looked like porcelain, smooth and untouched by the stress of their world.
Without her "Ice Queen" guard up, her features were soft—the delicate curve of her nose, the long sweep of her dark lashes casting tiny shadows on her cheeks, and her lips slightly parted in sleep.
She looked like a secret he was the only one allowed to keep.
He noticed a stray lock of hair fallen across her cheek, obscuring the view.
Reaching out with a hand that was surprisingly steady, he gently tucked it behind her ear.
His fingers lingered for a second, marvelling at how soft she was.
As if feeling his touch, Jay stirred in her sleep. She let out a tiny, contented sigh and rolled slightly closer.
Her arm moved instinctively, landing softly and firmly right across his bare chest.
Keifer froze.
His heart, which had just begun to settle, gave a violent thrum against her palm.
He stayed perfectly still, his breath hitched, waiting to see if she would wake up. But she just snuggled closer, her warmth seeping into his skin.
A soft, genuine chuckle vibrated in his throat—a sound of pure, helpless surrender.
He realized then that no matter how much his father coached him to be the "shaker," Jay would always have the upper hand, even while she was dreaming.
He reached down, picked up her hand from his chest, and pressed a lingering, tender kiss to her knuckles.
"You are really the end of me, Jay," he whispered into the quiet room.
Keifer finally let out a long, shaky breath, trying to force his racing heart to listen to reason.
He adjusted his pillow and lay back, staring at the dark ceiling.
But just as he started to settle, Jay shifted in her sleep, rolling away from him and turning her back.
The sudden distance felt like a cold breeze. Keifer frowned, a flicker of his usual "grumpy" impatience returning.
He had been through an emotional marathon today—from the balcony at the villa to his father's "man-to-man" talk—and now he was being ignored by a sleeping girl.
"Seriously, Jay?" he whispered into the darkness, his voice a mix of frustration and affection.
He sighed, shaking his head at his own drama, and scooted a bit closer to her.
He didn't touch her, but he stayed close enough to feel the radiating warmth of her body.
He closed his eyes, his mind finally beginning to drift toward sleep, the silence of the mansion wrapping around them.
He was just on the edge of a dream when Jay stirred again.
She didn't just move; she pivoted entirely, rolling back toward him with the fluid grace of someone seeking heat.
Her arm draped over his waist, her hand flat against his back, and she nuzzled her face firmly into the crook of his shoulder.
She tucked herself against him so perfectly it was as if she were a missing piece of him finally clicking into place.
For the third time that night....
Keifer froze.
He lay there, pinned by her weight, his skin tingling where her breath hit his neck.
He looked down at the top of her head, his chest swelling with a feeling so intense it almost hurt.
A low, helpless chuckle vibrated in his chest again.
"You are seriously the end of me," he murmured, his voice thick with surrender.
To his absolute shock, a tiny, soft sound vibrated against his skin.
"Mmm-hmm..." Jay hummed.
It was a sleepy, subconscious response, her voice like velvet and honey.
She wasn't fully awake, but she was aware enough to acknowledge him.
He looked at her silhouette one last time and whispered, barely audible, "You know... you are so beautiful, Jay."
Through the darkness, a tiny, muffled voice came from the pillow.
"Shut up, Keifer..."
He blinked, startled. She was half-asleep, her voice thick and drowsy, but she had definitely heard him.
A grin tugged at his lips as he realized she was still feisty even in her dreams.
Keifer chuckled again, the sound richer and warmer this time.
He stopped fighting it. He reached out, wrapping his arm securely around her, pulling her even tighter against his chest.
He didn't care about his father's "shaker" advice or his "Golden Boy" reputation anymore.
"Sleep, Jay," he whispered, resting his chin on top of her head. "I've got you."
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The morning sun filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, casting long, golden streaks across the room.
The house was quiet, but inside the master suite, the air was warm and still.
Keifer was the first to wake. For a few seconds, he just lay there, the fog of sleep lifting to reveal a weight on his chest that felt more right than anything he'd ever known.
He looked down and realized they had spent the entire night in the exact same position.
Jay was still tucked firmly into his side, her face pressed against his bare chest, her steady breathing vibrating against his skin.
He didn't move. He couldn't. He just watched her, a soft, lopsided smile spreading across his face.
The "Golden Boy" ego and the "Grumpy Husband" mask were miles away.
Here, in the quiet of the morning, he was just a man completely captivated by the woman in his arms.
He noticed a stray lock of hair tickling her nose and, very gently, he swiped it away with his thumb.
As if sensing the movement, Jay's eyelashes flickered. She didn't pull away; instead, she nuzzled a little deeper into his warmth, her senses slowly returning to her.
Keifer leaned down, his lips hovering just an inch from her temple.
"Good morning, wifey,"
he whispered, his voice gravelly and deep with sleep.
A small, genuine smile bloomed on Jay's face. She didn't open her eyes yet, clearly savoring the comfort of the moment.
Her arm tightened slightly around his waist as she let out a soft, contented sigh.
"Good morning, hubby, ❤️"