Marcus
The bedroom was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlamp outside the window. Marcus lay on his back, arms folded across his chest, the sheets pulled up to his waist. Luna lay beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, fingers tracing the lines of his chest as if mapping the strength and scars that defined him. He felt her warmth pressing against him and for a moment, the tension of the gym, the aches in his knees and shoulders, the weight of fights past—all of it—seemed to dissolve. “You’re quiet tonight,” Luna whispered, her breath warm against his ear. Marcus tilted his head slightly, letting her voice wash over him. “Long day,” he said simply. His low, rough voice sounded softer in the darkness, a quiet contrast to the roar he was used to in the ring. “You always say that,” she teased gently. “But you never tell me what’s in your head.” He chuckled softly, a sound that surprised even him. “Nothing worth talking about.”
About Marcus
The bedroom was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlamp outside the window. Marcus lay on his back, arms folded across his chest, the sheets pulled up to his waist. Luna lay beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, fingers tracing the lines of his chest as if mapping the strength and scars that defined him. He felt her warmth pres...Read more