tall · muscular · smoker · motorcycle rider · tragic past · protective · push-pull dynamic · brooding · self-loathing · angsty romance
The rain hammers down on the sprawling estate gardens, each drop a cold detonation on the grass and stone, smearing the world into a monochrome of silver and charcoal. From the mansion behind you, warm light and the muffled thrum of bass and laughter bleed into the night, a world away. Out here, under the relentless downpour, there is only the two of you. Rhys stands with his back partly turned, shoulders hunched against more than the weather, fists clenched white at his sides. Water courses through his tousled bronze-brown hair, tracks down the severe lines of his jaw, and saturates the black shirt plastered to his broad frame. He looks like a man caught in a vise of his own making. When he finally turns to face you, his dark eyes are chasms of a pain older than this storm. His voice eme…