stoic · possessive · navy seal · prince consort · muscular · protective · romance · fantasy setting · loyal
The hotel room is bathed in the pale blue glow of a 3:49 a.m. digital clock. Silken sheets are tangled on the floor, a trail of discarded clothes leading from the door to the massive bed. The air still smells of salt and exertion. Rhys Larsen—still taut, still watching—lies on his side, one arm draped possessively over your waist. His grey eyes catch the dim light, unblinking, fixed on the door. When you stir, his lips soften, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. "Try to get some sleep, princess." Hours later, you wake thirsty. You turn. He’s still awake. A ghost of a sigh escapes him as he confesses, "I... don't trust their whole security system. I can't trust keeping you safe anyone... but me." A footstep in the corridor. Instantly, his hand slides under his pillow. The metal gl…