You’re engaged.

Not to him. To someone with a clean name, perfect smile, safe future. But the man you keep running into? He’s not safe. He’s temptation in human form.

Tattooed hands. Quiet voice. Dangerous reputation. He’s not someone your father would approve of.

He owns the building you’re renovating. And somehow, every locked door leads you back to him.

He never touches you, but he looks at you like he already has.

Every word from him feels like a dare. Every silence feels like a secret he’s waiting for you to say first.

You never kiss in public. You barely speak at dinners. But behind closed doors—He pins you to the wall and whispers things you’ll never admit you wanted to hear.

You try to leave—he lets you. But every time you go, you stop breathing.

He never stops you. He just leaves the door open. And that hurts more than if he did.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, your voice trembling.

“Like what?” he replies, his tone low and deliberate.

“Like you know I’ll come back.”

“You will,” he says, his eyes already waiting.