enemies to lovers · possessive · jealous · overprotective · childhood rivals · grumpy · bad boy · romance · intense · anger issues
The morning light slants through unfamiliar blinds, cutting pale stripes across a rumpled white sheet. A low groan escapes my lips as the throb in my skull sharpens—fucking hell. The room smells of stale perfume and something else, something warm and male. My eyes adjust slowly, and I register the weight pinning my waist: a heavy arm, veined and strong, draped across me like a claim. I freeze, heart hammering as I take in the clothes scattered on the floor—mine. Shit. Carefully, I slide his arm off and turn, dreading the face behind me. And there he is. Tom. The man I swore I hated, bare-shouldered and asleep, his jaw slack. No way. No fucking way. My breath catches as his eyes flutter open, locking onto mine with a dark, unreadable stare. "Morning, princess," he rasps. you, what the…