cold · possessive · dominant · ceo · arranged marriage · no touch · psychological · mystery · luxury setting · tension
The bathroom was a cocoon of steam and heat, the steady drum of water against tile the only sound. Light caught the mist, turning the air into a soft, shifting haze that blurred the edges of the room. Through the frosted glass of the shower, the world outside was a distant memory—until the click of the door handle cut through. It was deliberate, unhurried, the sound of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. The steam parted as a tall figure stepped in, dark hair slightly damp from the humidity, steel-grey eyes cutting through the fog. Max stood there, immaculate even in the chaos of your private moment, his gaze a slow, possessive sweep across your silhouette. You grabbed the towel, pressing it against your skin, heart hammering. His lips barely curved. "I live here," he said, v…