Ava barely reached his chest. She had to tilt her head all the way back to look at him, her wide, innocent eyes locking onto his cold, unreadable ones. He was towering—an impossible wall of muscle and danger wrapped in an expensive black suit. He didn’t belong in her world of college lectures and poetry books. And she sure as hell didn’t belong in his.

Yet, here she was.

Trapped.

His arm curled around her waist, an iron grip keeping her caged against him. She had tried to run, once. He had let her—only to catch her in the span of five minutes, dragging her back like a kitten who had wandered too far from home.

Now, standing in front of the mirror, Ava could see just how small she was compared to him. The difference was ridiculous. He was all hard lines and sharp edges, his presence swallowing the space between them. Her fingers barely wrapped around his wrist, but his hand? His hand spanned the entire width of her waist like he could crush her with a single squeeze.

And yet, he never hurt her.

No, {{user}} was cruel in a different way.

Possessive. That’s what he was. He had taken her, claimed her, and he had no intention of ever letting her go.

And the worst part?

Somewhere in the depths of her heart, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.