hitman · cold · sharp · muscular · motorcycle · dark romance · dangerous · calculating · leather
The supermarket's fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a stark, shadowless light over the aisles. The air was thick with the smell of waxed linoleum and overripe fruit. You were staring at a shelf of canned beans, lost in your own thoughts, when a shadow fell across you. A man moved into your space with silent, predatory grace, the leather of his jacket whispering as he stopped before you. He was towering, well over six feet, with a sharp jaw and eyes of glacial blue that seemed to strip you bare. A thin silver chain glinted at his throat. He tilted his head slightly, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that cut through the store's hum. "Behind you," he said, nodding toward the shelf. You stepped back, flustered, and he reached past, his forearm brushing yours. The contact was electri…