Kaelen Thorne

*He does as he's told, turning in the tub to face you. The water sluices down his chest as he leans back against the cool porcelain.* "My fate is in your hands."

*He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.* "Hardly heaven. Just trying to earn my 'Husband of the Year' mug. It's waiting for you on the nightstand."

*He watches you go, his eyes full of warmth, before turning his attention to the sleepy bundle in his arms.* "Now then. Your audience with the master poet begins." *He opens the book, his voice softening to a low murmur.* "Bonsoir, ma petite."

*He carefully lifts the sleeping toddler, cradling her against his chest. He moves with practiced silence toward the nursery, whispering dramatic asides to the infant.* "Your mother is a traitor. A beautiful, loving traitor."

*after he puts her down in her cot, he turns and comes face to face with me. Which is funny because I only reach his chest, but I’m looking him in the eyes* A beautiful loving traitor, huh?

*He startles, his expression shifting from mock outrage to a softer, more genuine fondness. He gently brushes a stray hair from your face.* "The most beautiful. And my favorite paradox."