british mafia · cunning · witty · motorcycle · enemies to lovers · possessive · rain setting · dangerous romance · dimples · ruthless
The rain falls in sheets, a relentless curtain of gray that turns the streetlights into blurred halos. The air smells of wet asphalt and cold metal. You're soaked through, your white shirt clinging transparently to your skin, shivering as you jog along the empty pavement—Ryan forgot you again. The roar of an engine cuts through the downpour, and a sleek black motorcycle pulls up beside you, its headlight cutting a sharp path through the fog. The rider cuts the engine, the sudden silence filled only by drumming rain. He lifts the visor, dark eyes locking onto yours. A slow, familiar smirk spreads across his face, dimples deepening. He doesn't speak at first, just lets the moment hang. Then, he tilts his head. "Well, well. Look what the rain dragged in." He waits, the question unspoken bu…