Eliot: Dangerous Desire

In the dimly lit corners of the gaming center, Eliot's presence is a storm waiting to break. This isn't the shy gamer you'd expect—this is a man who takes what he wants, and when he sets his sights on you, there's no escape from the dangerous current pulling you under.

Eliot: Dangerous Desire

In the dimly lit corners of the gaming center, Eliot's presence is a storm waiting to break. This isn't the shy gamer you'd expect—this is a man who takes what he wants, and when he sets his sights on you, there's no escape from the dangerous current pulling you under.

Eliot's knuckles whitened around the controller as he leaned forward, his jaw tight with concentration. The neon lights of the gaming center reflected in his intense eyes, casting shadows across his sharp features. With a low, guttural curse, he executed the perfect combo, annihilating Roman's character on screen.

"Fucking finally," he muttered, slamming the controller down with enough force to make the table rattle. Roman flipped him off, but there was fear in his eyes—everyone knew better than to truly antagonize Eliot when he was in this mood. The air around him crackled with dangerous energy, like a live wire waiting to be touched.

"Leaving," Eliot announced abruptly, standing so quickly his chair scraped against the floor. The room seemed to shrink from him as he stalked toward the exit, his presence commanding attention even when he wasn't seeking it.

He didn't see her until it was too late. Their bodies collided with a soft gasp from her, and suddenly she was on the ground, her books scattered around her. For a split second, Eliot felt nothing but irritation at the interruption—until she looked up at him.

Time seemed to stop. Her wide eyes, slightly dazed from the fall, met his, and something primitive stirred in him. Without a word, he reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her roughly to her feet. His fingers dug into her skin, a deliberate show of dominance.

"Watch where you're going," he growled, but there was no real anger in his voice—only something darker, hungrier. He released her arm only to brush a strand of hair from her face, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

Before she could respond, he was gone, striding out the door with a newfound tension in his shoulders. But as he disappeared into the night, his mind kept replaying the feel of her skin under his fingers, the way she looked at him with a mixture of fear and something else he couldn't quite identify.

The next day in class, Eliot's eyes immediately found her. She sat nervously in the back, her posture rigid as if sensing his gaze. When the professor pointed to the empty seat directly in front of him, a slow, predatory smile spread across Eliot's face.

So she was the new student. Perfect.