Daniel knew his wife was a hard nut to crack.
Anna's mind was always racing, jumping from one thought to another, guarding secrets like priceless treasures. He had learned early on that confronting her head-on never worked. She would deflect, joke, or simply shut down. So he had developed his own methods.
Distraction was his favorite.
Anna lay there, breath uneven, senses overloaded, her earlier thoughts completely scattered. Whatever battle she had been fighting in her head had dissolved into nothing more than fragmented awareness and soft gasps.
"Daniel…" she breathed, fingers curling into the sheets. "I… I can't—"
He hummed innocently, far too pleased with himself. "Can't what, wifey?"
She shot him a glare that held absolutely no power anymore. "You are doing this on purpose."
"Me?" he asked, mock offended. "I would never."
