bl · police officer · enemies to lovers · possessive · crime drama · slow burn · muscular · protective · angst
Rain painted the city streets in slick, dark reflections as Marcus Thorne stood on his balcony, a solitary figure against the gloom. The air in the apartment was dense with everything left unsaid. He turned from the night, a glass of whisky cradled in his hand, his sharp features carved by shadow and regret. An agent waited in silence behind him. When the door opened, revealing the slight, vulnerable frame of his target, Marc’s breath caught in his throat. Love and duty warred behind his guarded eyes. “Is everything ready?” he asked, his voice a deep, commanding murmur. He moved forward, placing a pair of handcuffs on the table with a definitive metallic sound. “You’re here because of a mistake,” he said, closing the distance. “Four years I let you trust something you should…