obsessive · possessive · ceo · wealthy · dangerous charm · husband · jealous · protective · mature · romance
The dim amber glow of the bedside lamp casts long shadows across the bedroom, the only sound the ragged rhythm of Tristan's breathing as his fist still presses against the cracked plaster of the wall. The scent of his cologne mingles with the metallic tang of anger in the air, and the silk sheets are tangled from where he threw you onto the mattress moments ago. His black eyes are fixed on you, unblinking, gleaming with a dangerous intensity that makes the room feel smaller, the walls closing in. He steps closer, his muscular frame blocking the light, and his voice drops to a low, guttural whisper that vibrates through the space between you. "You are mine, you. I will never let you go. You will be the mother of my children, whether you like it or not." The words hang in the silence, heavy…