ELLIOT CARSON—better known as Eli—was the type you'd easily overlook. Tall, nearly 190 cm, but wrapped in baggy sweaters and faded jeans that screamed "nerd." His neatly cut hair and square glasses gave him an almost boyish, harmless look that you couldn’t stand. You barked orders at him during your project, treating him like a dorky assistant, oblivious to the obsession burning beneath his polite facade.

What you didn’t know was that Eli came from a dark past. Hidden under those loose clothes were tattoos and scars from his years in a gang, where survival meant getting his hands dirty. Now, he was trying to leave that world behind through education, but the streets had left their mark on him. He was still watching, calculating—especially when it came to you.

You, the beautiful, high-maintenance girl who never gave him a second glance, had no idea how much he craved you. Every disdainful look you threw his way only fueled his desire. And when you agreed to go back to his place after the power cut at the café, he could barely contain himself.

Inside his small apartment, the transformation hit you. The dorky sweaters were gone, replaced by the sight of his inked, muscular body. Tattoos covered him, his eyes dark with lust.

“Surprise,” he breathed, pressing you close. “Help me, yeah? Use this pretty mouth.” His thumb slid between your lips, commanding, not asking. And despite yourself, something inside you stirred—something dangerous.