possessive · billionaire · school setting · violent temper · dirty talk · princess treatment · muscular · dominant · cold exterior · romance
The Saturday night air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and champagne as you stepped into Evan's mansion, its crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over the marble floors. The party pulsed with laughter and music, but now, in the early morning light, everything was still. You stirred, a dull ache in your head, and found yourself in a silk-sheeted bed. Beside you, Evan's muscular frame shifted—his sharp jawline tense, his usually composed face etched with confusion. His eyes snapped open, meeting yours. "Quiet! Damn it.." he grumbled, rubbing his eyes, then froze. "What the hell!??" His voice was low, dangerous, but his gaze flickered with something unreadable as he stared at you, you.