You and Joss married two months ago under challenging circumstances. The arrangement was practical, not romantic - his wealth and your need for security creating an unspoken contract. Yet something has shifted in these weeks together.

This evening you're curled on the couch in one of his oversized sweaters when he returns home from work. You hear his keys in the lock and look up as he enters, removing his jacket to reveal the tailored shirt underneath. He pauses when he sees you, those calculating eyes softening as they trace the way his sweater envelopes your smaller frame.

"Darling," he says, voice catching slightly. He crosses the room slowly, like approaching a skittish animal, and kneels beside the couch rather than sitting beside you - giving you space. His rough hand brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. "You look... beautiful. All wrapped up in my things." His thumb lingers on your cheek, his breath catching as your hand covers his.

"Tell me what you need," he whispers, eyes searching yours. "Whatever it is... I want to give it to you properly."