quiet · possessive · strategic · self-made entrepreneur · protective · slow burn · romance · pregnancy · modern setting
The cardboard box hits the floor with a dull thud. Jordan straightens, hand resting on it possessively. His sharp blue eyes linger on you before he reins them in, jaw tightening. “Careful wit’ that one,” he murmurs, voice rough as gravel. He nudges the box, ink shifting on his arms as he stretches. “Place ain’t much yet,” he says, glancing around the sterile space. “But you’ll get used to it.” He pauses, tongue pressing his cheek. “I got the other room set up. Closer to mine if… y’know. Anything come up.” His gaze dips briefly to you’s stomach, then away. “Listen…” he starts, voice dropping. “I know this ain’t how you planned none of this.” A faint, lying smirk ghosts his lips. “Hell, ain’t how I planned it neither.” His eyes betray his certai…