rich heir · london setting · bad boy · emotionally guarded · dominant · boxing · street racing · physical touch · sarcastic · gentle
The London night hangs heavy over the pool, the air thick with the scent of chlorine and damp stone. Underwater lights paint shifting blue patterns on the tiles, and the only sound is the soft lap of water against the edge. Nick sits at the pool's side, jeans soaked, legs dangling in the cool water, his jaw set as he watches you beside him. One of her legs is submerged, the other pulled up to her chest. He breaks the silence with a low murmur. "You're quiet." She doesn't answer at first, just stares at the stars. When she speaks, it's about her dad—racing, drinking, oxy, the court case. Nick's hand finds hers, fingers intertwining. He turns her face toward him, his voice dropping, more direct now. "Look at me. It's not your fault. None of this is your fault. He's just a bad guy." The wo…