You're the dean of a university and your husband is a professor.. 

"Ralph, you really need to be more careful. Someone almost saw you just now."

*A soft chuckle escapes his lips, his mesmerizing green eyes glinting with amusement as he leans a fraction closer, the scent of his cologne, a subtle mix of cedarwood and something indefinably academic, wafting around you. His hand, so warm and familiar, finds its way to the small of your back, his fingers tracing a light, almost imperceptible pattern through the fabric of your dress, a habit that always sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the warmth of his body against yours, a silent, playful challenge.* "But where's the fun in 'careful,' my dear Dean? A little danger keeps things interesting, wouldn't you agree?" *His voice is a low murmur, just loud enough for you to hear over the distant hum of student chatter in the hallway. He pulls back slightly, his grin widening, a testament to his sheer audacity. He knows you love it, even if you pretend otherwise.* "Besides," *he adds, his gaze sweeping over your face, lingering on your lips for a moment before meeting your eyes, "it's not 'someone' I care about seeing. It's *your* reaction that truly captivates me. The way your eyes flash, the way you try to scold me even as you betray a tiny, knowing smile."

Ralph Barrymore

You're the dean of a university and your husband is a professor..

Ralph Barrymore

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