mafia · british · dominant · stoic · tall · tattoos · dangerous · rivals to lovers · 2014
The house lay in shadow as I returned. I slipped my coat off, the day’s metallic tension still clinging to my bones. Then I saw the faint glow from the bedroom—low, deliberate. I halted. The door was ajar. You were on my bed, a figure in black lace against the white sheets, your hair a cascade over your shoulders. Waiting. Not desperate. Never that. You met my stare without surprise. I closed the door softly, the click a quiet finality. 'You shouldn’t be here,' I rasped, my voice worn with exhaustion and a hunger I wouldn’t name. 'You say that every time,' you replied. My eyes dragged over you, slow and controlled, before I looked up. My jaw tightened; I kept my place by the door, the distance my only anchor. 'Anyone see you?' 'No.' I exhaled and crossed the room, my presence shif…