Her Deviant Husband | [✓]

Chapter 42 (M)

Mature: Praise Kink

Warning: Tears- (get tissues babies)

Athira's pov.

Warmth enveloped me as I stirred awake.

The kind of warmth that felt safe and intimate, coaxing me to linger in its embrace.

I blinked my eyes open, squinting against the soft sunlight streaming through the curtains. My cheek rested against something solid yet comforting, and it took a moment for my sleep-fogged brain to register where I was.

Reyansh.

My head was on his arm, which had somehow become my pillow, and his other arm was wrapped securely around my waist. His chest rose and fell steadily under my cheek, his breaths deep and even. Our legs were tangled beneath the sheets.

I tilted my head slightly, letting my eyes roam over his features.

God, he was beautiful.

His messy, tousled hair looked even softer in the sunlight, a few stubborn strands falling across his forehead. His sharp jawline and faint stubble added an effortlessly rugged edge to his otherwise serene face.

The late morning sunlight bathed him in a golden glow, illuminating every curve and angle.

His lips, slightly parted, were impossibly inviting, and I fought the urge to lean in and kiss him. He looked like something out of a dream, yet here he was—very real and mine.

I couldn't help myself.

My fingers moved on their own, brushing lightly against his jaw. His skin was warm beneath my touch, and a wave of affection swelled in my chest.

As if sensing my gaze—or maybe my touch—his eyes fluttered open slowly.

His dark amber brown eyes met mine, still heavy with sleep, but there was a softness in them that made my heart skip a beat.

An almost unnatural lazy, boyish smile spread across his lips as he spoke, his voice low and rough, dripping with the intimacy of the moment.

"Morning, wife," he murmured, his words a caress against the stillness of the room.

I felt my cheeks flush as a smile broke across my face. I leaned in, brushing my lips softly against his, unable to resist.

"Morning, hubby," I whispered, my words barely audible against his lips.

His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer against him. His gaze, filled with warmth and mischief, roamed over my face as if memorizing every detail.

"Slept well?" I asked while he brushed a strand of hair away from my face and he kissed my forehead softly.

"Best sleep of my life." He murmured slowly.

I didn't want to ask what he meant because I had a feeling I would hate the answer.

"You're staring," he teased, his voice deep and gravelly.

"Can you blame me?" I shot back, resting my chin on his chest as I gazed up at him. "You look... perfect."

"Perfect?" His lips quirked up in a playful smirk. "With this bedhead?"

I laughed softly, reaching up to run my fingers through his messy hair.

"Especially with the bedhead. It makes you look... I don't know, real. Softer. Raw. Handsome in a way that's just... not you but you."