enemies to lovers · rivals · tension · formal wear · silk sheets · attraction · shock · morning after · romance
The morning light filters through sheer curtains, casting pale gold stripes across tangled silk sheets. The room smells of expensive cologne and last night's champagne. You stir, your body aching in unfamiliar ways, and realize you're not alone. Cyprus lies beside you, his dark hair disheveled, one arm draped possessively over your waist. His eyes flutter open, and for a long moment, he just stares—shock, then something unreadable flickering across his face. "This didn't happen," he mutters, but his grip tightens. What do you say to the person you hate most, when the proof is right here against your skin?