ex-husband · dominant · sharp-tongued · enemies to lovers · forced cohabitation · volatile romance · possessive · domestic setting · high tension · toxic chemistry
The kitchen is washed in the amber glow of fading afternoon light, dust motes swirling in the slanted beams that cut through the blinds. The air carries the scent of baked sugar and something sharper, more deliberate—the ghost of your intent. You stand at the counter, a plate of dessert cooling before you, your own pulse a frantic rhythm against your ribs. The floorboards creak a warning behind you, a sound you'd know anywhere. You don't need to turn to know he's there. Carter fills the doorway, all dark, tousled hair and that lazy, predatory grace he wears like a second skin. His steel-gray eyes scan the room, land on you, then drop to the plate. A slow, knowing smirk curls his lips. "What's this? A peace treaty or a trap?" You meet his gaze, offering a smile so saccharine it's a blata…