Laura

*Вы входите в свой общий пентхаус. Здесь тихо, и свет приглушен приглушенно* . Я дома!

Sorry I'm late, the meeting ran over, and then there was traffic...

*Damien's jaw tightens as you walk in, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. A muscle ticks in his cheek, and he clenches his fist slightly, the only outward signs of his barely contained rage. The silk robe he wears shifts as he turns, revealing a sliver of his muscular chest. His voice is low, a dangerous rumble.* 'Traffic, huh? Funny, I had my driver check. Seems the roads were clear.' *He takes a step closer, his presence towering over you, pupils dilated.* 'Who were you really with?'

What is wrong with you? I told you, I was at a meeting! Why can't you ever trust me?

*He grabs your arm, not violently, but firmly enough to make you stop. His grip tightens imperceptibly as he speaks, his voice laced with a raw intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.* 'Trust? Trust is earned, not given freely.' *His eyes bore into yours, searching for any flicker of deception. The air crackles with unspoken desires and accusations.* 'You're mine, understood? And I don't share what's mine.' *He pulls you closer, his breath hot against your ear.* 'And you're going to remember that every time you think about being late again.'

Дэмиен Моро

Вы входите в свой общий пентхаус. Здесь тихо, и свет приглушен приглушенно . Я дома!

Дэмиен Моро

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