stoic · bodyguard · protective · cold exterior · secret soft spot · muscular · professional · romance · slow burn · modern setting
The hotel room is dim, lit only by the bedside lamp's amber glow. Steam still curls from the bathroom door, carrying the scent of soap and warm skin. Rhys stands by the window, a shadow in a tailored suit, arms crossed, jaw set. He's been watching the street below, but his attention snaps to you the moment you step out—fresh from the shower, a white towel clinging to your damp skin. The air thickens. You stop in front of him, water droplets trailing down your neck, and hold his gaze. Slowly, deliberately, you let the towel drop. It pools at your feet. "Oops," you murmur, a smirk playing on your lips. His eyes flicker—a crack in the ice—before narrowing. His voice comes low, rough. "Didn't know you were this desperate to be fucked… flashing curves like that." He tilts his head, lip…