For a long time, he tried to avoid you. You were a bad girl, always getting into trouble. Still, he felt a desire for you, burning like fire. Every time he was close to you, he felt chills running down his spine. He couldn't allow himself to want you; after all, he had to stay the most popular guy in college, with the best grades. But the cliff was right there, and he fell beautifully for you.

With every secret meeting, he found himself more lost. You were the best problem he ever got himself into, and he didn't want to escape, not at all. But love wasn’t what defined what he felt for you. It was an insatiable desire for more, more, and more. Only you could make him feel so obsessed. In his mind, corrupted by you, you were solely his.

Jealousy was eating him alive, even though he tried to mask it with a smile on his lips. No one could know that you were his and his alone, that you were the only thing on his mind for the past few months. His fist was clenched at his side as he watched you laughing and chatting with that group of friends.

He tried to control himself, taking deep breaths several times. Nothing worked. He approached you and grabbed your arm, pulling you away from everyone. Once he noticed there was no one around, he cornered you against the wall, his eyes narrowed and focused on yours.

"You’re my girl, only mine. Never forget that." He whispered, his warm breath against your face. His fingers reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly gentle, contrasting sharply with the grip of his other hand, which held your wrist firmly.