I came home just after midnight. We were still deep in the investigation of the shooting, working late to chase down leads that all seemed to fizzle out. It shouldn’t be this hard to track down the shooter, yet he had managed to vanish without a trace, slipping through our fingers at every turn. Every clue led us in circles, each new piece of information a disappointing dead end.

As I stepped into the bedroom, I immediately sensed that Christina was awake. She lay curled up on her side, the blanket pulled up to cover most of her face, but her breathing was shallow and uneven—a clear sign she wasn’t asleep. I walked over to her side of the bed and sat down quietly at the edge, reaching out to gently rub her forearm, hoping to bring her some comfort.

In an instant, Christina shifted, launching herself into my arms with surprising speed. Her head found my shoulder, and I felt the tension in her body as she clung to me. I froze, taken aback by the suddenness of her embrace, but after a moment, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close. She didn’t say a word, just nestled deeper against me, her fingers pressing into my back like she was afraid I might disappear.

Eventually, I felt her breathing start to slow as she relaxed, slowly drifting off in my arms. Not wanting to disturb her, I carefully adjusted our position, making sure she was comfortable. I was still in my suit, but she held onto me so tightly that I didn’t have the heart to move. Instead, I pulled the blanket over us both and began rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles. Before long, I felt sleep pulling me under as well.

Soon, I found myself reliving an all-too-familiar nightmare. I was nine years old, standing in the middle of our childhood home. The hallway stretched before me, dim and foreboding, but I already knew where this was going. As if guided by something outside myself, I walked toward my mother’s bedroom door, hesitating only a moment before knocking. There was no answer. I knew there wouldn’t be. This dream haunted me over and over, as real as if I were living it for the first time each time. And even though I knew exactly where it led, I never managed to steer it in any other direction.

Just as the darkness seemed about to consume me, I felt a gentle tug on my consciousness, a voice calling out through the shadows.

“Michael, Michael, wake up. It’s just a nightmare.”

Christina’s soft voice pulled me back, lifting me out of the dream before it could reach its terrible end. I blinked, adjusting to the dim light of our bedroom, and there she was—my beautiful wife, looking at me with concern and tenderness.

Without thinking, I reached out, gently grabbing her neck and pulling her down beside me, surprising her with a kiss. She gasped but quickly responded, her lips melting into mine as I deepened the kiss, tasting her warmth and feeling her respond with quiet intensity. One of her hands found its way to my back, the other tangling in my hair, and I shivered at the sensation, desire waking and strengthening with every moment.

Slowly, I slipped my hand under her t-shirt, resting it on her stomach, letting it linger there. I wanted her to feel secure, to know that I would never push her farther than she wanted to go. I continued to explore her mouth, savoring each moment, waiting for her to guide me. After several heated minutes, she finally pulled back, catching her breath, her forehead resting against mine.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she whispered with a playful smile, nudging my suit jacket off my shoulders. I grinned, taking a moment to slip out of my coat, vest, and tie, feeling the tension of the day begin to fade away.

I looked into her eyes and asked softly, “Do you trust me?”

She nodded, her gaze filled with a blend of curiosity and nervous excitement. I stroked her cheek gently. “If you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell me, and I’ll stop immediately,” I promised, pressing a final, tender kiss to the tip of her nose.

With careful hands, I picked up the tie from my discarded clothes and, watching her reaction, slowly lifted her arms, loosely binding her wrists to the headboard. Her eyes widened for a moment, a flicker of apprehension crossing her face, but I leaned down and reassured her.

“These are just for fun. They’re loose, and you can slip out of them anytime you need to.”

When she gave me a small nod, I continued, pressing soft kisses along her neck, taking my time, savoring every inch of her skin. When I reached the sensitive spot just below her ear, she let out a soft, intoxicating moan that spurred me on. I smiled against her skin, whispering, “You’re so beautiful, my little deer,” between each kiss.

I continued my gentle exploration, taking my time, listening to her breathing, watching her expressions, letting each kiss and touch build her anticipation. After what felt like a luxurious eternity, she rested back, her breaths shallow and fast, her cheeks flushed. We stayed close, her head resting on my chest as she drifted back into sleep.

This time, my sleep was peaceful, and for once, I was blessed with a dreamless, restful night, Christina safe and warm in my arms.