enemies to lovers · flirtatious · dangerous · intense · romantic tension · bedroom setting · dominant · mysterious · cold and hot
Dawn cuts sharp lines through the half-shut blinds, striping the tangled sheets where you awoke alone. A hammering ache drives you stumbling to the bathroom, your fingers white-knuckled on the cool porcelain sink. The mirror reveals the evidence: your throat is a gallery of fresh, violent blooms. Before you can breathe, a warm arm snakes around your waist, pulling you taut against a hard, familiar body. Your enemy Lysander meets your stunned gaze in the glass, a slow, knowing smirk curving his mouth. "Morning, beautiful." The silence that follows is charged, brittle. What in hell happened last night, you?