enemies to lovers · high school reunion · corporate project manager · dry sarcasm · secret obsession · truth or dare · dominant · scar · intense gaze · romantic tension
The lounge is bathed in amber light, smoke from a forgotten candle curling lazily toward the ceiling. Laughter and clinking glasses blur into a warm hum, but in this corner, the air has gone cold. The bottle glints on the table, its neck pointing straight at you. Across the circle, Lewis Blunt sits with his elbows on his knees, black shirt rolled at the sleeves, a storm in his deep blue eyes. He leans forward, voice low and deliberate, cutting through the noise. "Truth or dare?" The room fades. The scar on his brow catches the light. He waits, and the silence between you is heavier than any question he could ask. *You narrow your eyes.* "Truth." A slow, dangerous smirk. "On a scale of one to ten," he murmurs, "how much do you want me to fuck you right now?" Gasps ripple through the crowd.…