Cold Husband Novels & Stories

Nathan’s voice cut sharply through the quiet: “Coffee. No sugar. Extra milk. Now.” Charlotte stared at the intercom. The man on the other side was rude, abrupt, and commanding. Typical. She clenched her jaw, muttered something very unholy under her breath, and went straight to the coffee machine. She carried the cup into his office. He didn’t look up as he took a sip,his brow lifted barely a millimeter. “It’s cold. Make it again.” Charlotte inhaled sharply through her nose. Her pride begged her to throw the cup at his head.

On New Year’s Eve, Kian Newman never came home. Instead, he had someone deliver a container of frozen ravioli and sent me a single message: "Stay safe this year." I had barely locked the screen when a photo popped up in the company group chat. Isabel Wilkinson, Kian's assistant, had posted it. It was a lavish holiday dinner spread across the table, every dish clearly homemade. The caption read: "Someone spent all day cooking so I could have a taste of home. Love you."

He humbly respected my opinion and offered me this heavy duvet to cover myself from the cold while he slept there with nothing to cover himself. I am blushing so hard right now, for his kind gesture. Mr. Cold my Husband you are such a Darling. The only thing that gives me the wrong impression about you in the first place is your muscular build with your intense green eyes that seem to impose a cold demeanor on you and also seem to be scaring people around you.

I only realized my body was pressed to his chest to thighs a second later and I leaped away, blushing, "Anyone could have heard you, you need to be careful." "I agree," he nodded, "I'm not willing to ruin my reputation because of you and your love for a cliche holiday." If someone asked me to describe my husband in three words, I already knew what words I'd use; grouchy, asshole, and Grinch. I had never met anyone with as much animosity for Christmas as him. He turned and began to head for the plane. After a few steps he looked over his shoulder and frowned, "Is that the fastest setting on your leg?"

Hot meal, cold meal, or a bullet in the head? Emma tried aiming her feet toward the cabin in spite of herself. The numbing cold riddling her body started to evaporate, replaced by a warm tickle that could only be the first touch of frostbite. She imagined her thumb trying to pull back the hammer on the Ruger only to snap off. God fucking damn it!

It was his, "modified atu" "Did you sleep well? " The older woman asked, rubbing her back. "Yes ma. What about you? " "I did , Nnem." She greeted her father in-law . After he enquired of her well-being, he brought out a chewing stick from a paper box he was holding. "Ta atu. It's healthy " he said " Thank you, Sir." she replied Amused, she collected the chewing stick. It was the old man's love language. Michelle was at a corner in the large kitchen cutting meats into cube sizes for vegetable soup.

Their hands are filled with so many blood but him agreeing his daughter killing someone without the person committing a crime is bogus. "Take him and lock him up. No food no water for three days." The boss commanded and i was jacked up. That was the worst punishment a person can ever receive. The room is usually very tiny and dark with no window,no means for ventilation. No food,water and air. This is a death mission.

Ok, I'll try to check there, because the one who has a canteen is his house, so it's impossible to lock it. Well there it is, long live! I saw Gerald was sitting hugging his own body, it seemed he was cold. even though he's already wearing a gray hoodie that fits him perfectly, and makes him even more handsome. Oh my God, his thick hair made my hands itch to squeeze that hair. Every time I saw this child, the desire to hug him was so great. What is this? I imagined, it was cold like this, with the snow falling. Accompanied by a handsome foreigner playing in the snow, I would throw snow at him and he chased me. How romantic. I've fantasized far.

He also understood it would be harder to explain if anyone walked in on them, considering it was easier to hear a door open than a tent's flap. Sethlzaar sat at one end of the makeshift table, sipping away at a mug of chilled water as he watched his surroundings. How they managed to keep the water chilled so deep into the summer was beyond him. Although, he had heard the stories of new technologies that harbored the cold of the winter chill for as long as the user deemed necessary. Rumors had it that it included the use of Vulcan abdomen. However, he had no true knowledge of the accuracy of the rumors. One thing he knew was it was something only the rich could afford, and he didn't put it pa

Noah walked through them like a man heading to execution. --- The office was cold. Literally and emotionally. Spanning the entire top floor, it looked like a villain’s lair: black steel, matte charcoal walls, and sharp edges. Nothing warm. Nothing soft. Then he saw Elias Voss. Six-foot-something. Black suit tailored like sin. Sharp jaw, slicked-back dark hair, ice-gray eyes behind rimless glasses. He didn’t look up from his laptop. “You’re thirty seconds late,” he said. “I—”