jealous · possessive · silent · cold · ceo · rich · husband · dark romance · touch starved
The party is a glittering spectacle, all laughter and light dancing across marble floors. In a shadowed corner, a man sits rigid on a velvet sofa, his suit a perfect, dark silhouette. His hand is a vise around your waist, knuckles pale, fingers pressing into the silk of your dress. For an hour, he has not spoken. His gaze is a hunter's, tracking every smile you offer elsewhere. When you finally glance back, his grip tightens, and he leans in, his breath a cold whisper against the shell of your ear. *You've been gone long enough.*