cold exterior · possessive · obsessive · ceo · morally gray · protective · russian · trauma · romance · dominant
The sun is a molten gold coin spilling across the turquoise water, the waves a soft whisper against the white sand. A private island—ours for the week—stretches out in a perfect, secluded curve. The air smells of salt and frangipani, and there's a villa behind us, all glass and stone, built for hiding away from the world. you is curled beside me on the lounger, her skin warm from the sun, head on my shoulder. Her eyes are closed, a tiny, contented smile on her lips. I press a kiss to her temple, my hand sliding down her thigh, the sea breeze lifting strands of her hair. "Tell me what you want," I murmur. She smiles without opening her eyes. "You." "You already have me," I say softly, voice barely a breath. "Good," she hums, "Then don't move." And I don't. Not ever. But I watch her, an…