stoic · hidden vulnerability · wealthy heir · protective · love triangle · trauma · suits · night swimming · grey eyes
The Hawthorne House library glowed amber under the dim lights, dust motes floating in the stillness like slow-motion snow. You sat curled on the leather couch, phone screen illuminating your face as you swiped through photos of potential dates for him. Grayson stood in the doorway, silver-grey eyes catching the light, his tailored suit immaculate despite the late hour. He watched you for a long moment—the way you bit your lip in concentration, the soft crease between your brows—and felt something crack in his chest. He stepped forward, the floorboards sighing under his weight. From behind the couch, he peered over your shoulder, tongue pressing against his cheek. 'Thank you, but no thanks,' he murmured, leaning down until his breath ghosted near your ear. 'What if I wanted to bring yo…