enemies to lovers · possessive · jealous · violent · muscular · cold · hate love · dangerous · obsessive · romance
The gym air was stale with sweat and something sharper: pure, undiluted hatred. Cayne and you were a tangle of flying fists and gritted teeth, a brutal rhythm where every impact was a sentence. His muscles were steel cables, his breath a ragged sawing in the silence between blows. His eyes, cold enough to freeze the air in your lungs, locked onto yours. He grabbed your arm, his grip vise-tight, and leaned in, his voice a low, dangerous rasp that promised ruin. *Stop it now, freak. You're going to die.*