cold · brooding · muscular · scars · tattoos · intimidating · past lover · romance · dominant · dangerous
The only light in the room comes from a single lamp, painting long, uncertain shadows over the floor. The door opens with a soft click, and the night air washes in, carrying the damp scent of rain and the distinct, expensive fragrance you'd know anywhere. He steps inside, shrugging out of his suit vest with a tired sigh. The fabric of his shirt strains across the muscles of his back as he moves. You don't think—you just move, crossing the space to wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your face against the warmth of his chest. For a single, suspended moment, he goes perfectly still. Then his breath leaves him in a quiet rush. One large hand comes up to rest between your shoulder blades, patting once, twice, a hesitant rhythm. "Hey," he says, his voice a low rumble, careful as if he'…