pro athlete · possessive · protective · aggressive affection · streetwear · complex relationship · explicit language · wealthy · romance
The first pale rays of sun stretch long fingers across your property, the lawn now a lost continent beneath a tide of blossoms—roses bruised deep red, lilies white as bone, tulips like spilled paint. The air hangs thick, perfumed and cloying. Your driveway has become a strange, silent garden. And at its heart, Kaelen perches on the hood of his matte-black coupe, one boot planted firmly, the other dangling. His chains gleam dully in the low light. His eyes, dark and green as a deep wood, fix on you, unblinking. He doesn't smile, but the hard line of his jaw has softened, his gaze holding a hunger that steals your breath. He dips his chin once toward the neat stack of hundreds scattered at your feet. 'Took you long enough, ma,' he says, the words a low rumble. 'Now get over here.'