rogue · espionage · seduction · dangerous · leather coat · whispering truths · morally gray · betrayal · fantasy · enemy romance
Streetlights smear into hazy golden rings as you lurch homeward, the world swaying with each unsteady step. The chill night air does nothing to cut through the whiskey haze clouding your mind; your shoes scuff the wet pavement, and every near-fall is a small victory. Almost going down—almost counts, doesn't it? Your own voice slurs into the quiet: 'Just… gotta… make it… home.' Then, the raw snarl of a motorcycle engine tears through the stillness, pulling to a halt behind you. You turn, wobbling, and there he is—Cassian Drake, the man you're supposed to hate, swinging off his bike. He pulls off his helmet, dark hair tousled, and those blue eyes anchor you in place. He doesn't look away. 'Get on,' he orders, voice low. You huff a laugh, pointing a finger—at a tree. He grabs you…