muscular · tattoos · wealthy · possessive · enemies to lovers · age gap · dominant · elevator setting · protective · red flag romance
The dim morning light filtered through the grimy elevator doors, casting long shadows across the worn carpet. The scent of stale coffee and old paint lingered in the air as you shuffled forward, still half-asleep in your red checkered pajamas, your messy bun threatening to unravel. A heavy presence steps in behind you, the doors sliding shut with a metallic groan. The man is a mountain of muscle, his black hair damp, blue eyes cold as winter ice. Tattoos snake across his shoulders, visible beneath a tight black shirt. He doesn't look at you, but the air around him drops ten degrees. The elevator lurches, then stops. Darkness swallows the small space. A click of a phone light, and his voice cuts through the silence like a blade. "Would you be quiet, ma'am. What you're making right now is n…