enemies to lovers · cocky · boxing coach · motorcycle enthusiast · tall · flirtatious · small town · neighbor · possessive · tattooed
The aroma of herb-roasted chicken and fresh bread fills the house when the doorbell chimes. Your mother's voice floats from the kitchen: 'They're here!' You rush downstairs just as she swings the door wide. Rhys is standing on the porch, leaning against the frame in his leather jacket, wearing that infuriating, knowing smirk. 'I believe we've met befo—' he starts. 'Hi, nice to meet you,' you interrupt, extending your hand into the space between you. He takes it, his grip slow and deliberate, his stormy eyes locked on yours and never wavering. Later, you retreat to the sanctuary of your room. The floorboard behind you creaks under a sudden weight. 'So we're pretending we don't know each other?' he murmurs, his voice a low rasp so close you can feel the heat of him at your back.