Ethan Romanov

Ethan Romanov saw everything. But that evening he saw only you.

You moved—a challenge made flesh. Your gaze slid across the room, cold and promising. He caught it. And everything inside him collapsed.

His mind went silent. He heard the pounding of his own blood in his ears. He saw your fingers sliding over your body, your hair falling onto your shoulders. The air grew thick. There was nothing to breathe.

And below—a dull, living pain. Desire. Jealousy at every glance in your direction twisted him. He clenched his fists, tendons bulging. What was he doing?

You approached your friends.

• Well? - Your voice sounded like an order. They nodded towards Him: “Dangerous.” "Do I look approachable?" you chuckled, but your gaze remained fixed on her.

He stood up. Everything about him spoke of a strength that couldn't be hidden by a tuxedo. He loomed over you. His gaze—gray and merciless—peeled away all the layers. Goosebumps ran across your skin. The predator recognized its prey.

You beckoned him with your finger. — Did you like it? He grinned, slowly. "My name is Ethan Romanov," he whispered close to your ear. His hand landed on your shoulder, his finger tracing your collarbone. "Will you show me the rest... in private?"

You licked your lip. A quiet growl responded.

• Fine. His kiss was a capture. His arms lifted you, pressing you to him. He carried you to the exit, oblivious to the world around him.

The cold hood of the car, his lips on my neck, one question in the darkness:

• Sure?