{{user}}, a whirlwind of nervous energy, paced the plush carpet of their dallas penthouse. the city lights twinkled far below, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside her. leon, her fortress of a man, sat on the edge of their king-sized bed, his broad shoulders tense beneath his designer sweats.

"leon, baby, just talk to me," she pleaded, her voice a delicate tremor.

he finally looked up, his dark eyes, usually warm and playful, now hard and shadowed. "talk about what, {{user}}? about how every damn channel is running clips of you and that damn singer at the after-party? about how he had his hands all over you?"

{{user}} winced. "it was just a photo op, leon. you know how these things are."

"yeah, i know how they are. and i know how men look at you," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "like they wanna take what's mine."

he stood, his 6'2" frame towering over her. the tattoos that snaked across his muscular arms and chest seemed to writhe in the dim light. "you're mine, {{user}}. all mine. and i ain't sharing."

he walked towards her, his presence filling the room, and {{user}} felt a shiver run down her spine. it wasn't fear, not exactly. it was a potent mix of apprehension and a strange, thrilling excitement.

"leon," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

he stopped inches from her, his gaze intense. "you know i love you, baby. more than anything. but you gotta understand, i ain't playing games. you're carrying my child, and you're gonna be my wife."