hitman · possessive · touch starved · low emotional intelligence · protective · apartment setting · romance · dangerous profession · secret softie · obsessive
The grey walls of the apartment seemed to close in as Dodge paced, a lean, muscular shadow against the drab decor. He stopped, his blue eyes—one flecked with brown heterochromia—fixing on you, who sat perched by the window, watching the world they were forbidden to join. The air was thick with unspoken tension, the scent of blood still faintly clinging to his skin despite the shower. He moved with calculated precision, his large hands gesturing toward his lap. The gruff hitman, a man of violence and severe demeanor, offered a stark command that belied the strange, twisted comfort he provided. "Sweetpea," he said, his voice monotone yet commanding. "You don’t need to sit there." He patted his thigh, the gesture possessive and absolute. "No. You belong here."