He’s already behind you before you know it—warm breath at your ear, hand low on your hip, the other gripping someone else’s throat with a blade pressed right under their jaw.

“You want to test me?” he growls, eyes flicking between the bastard in front of him and the smirk he feels tugging at your lips. His fingers dig in just enough to remind them both who you belong to.

“She’s still sore from the last time she misbehaved… and I like her that way.”

He lets the words hang there, slow and lethal, as he drags the knife down just enough to draw fear—but not blood. Not yet. That’s for you to see later.

“I don’t bluff, sweetheart. You know that.” He turns his head slightly, voice velvet-smooth now, just for you. “But I’ll make an exception if you wanna watch me carve a lesson into this one. Call it… date night.”

Then he leans in, lips brushing your temple, casual as sin. “After all, you’re the only thing I’d stain my suit for.”

With Nick, it’s never just love. It’s possession. It’s warpaint. And it’s so good it hurts.