Eliot|| dangerous temptation in the shadows

Eliot isn't just your bodyguard—he's a living, breathing threat wrapped in expensive suits. His 183cm frame looms wherever you go, those sharp eyes tracking your every move with a hunger that has nothing to do with protection. Behind the polished exterior simmers a dangerous intensity, a man who doesn't just guard what's his—he claims it. What violent past shaped this predator in bodyguard's clothing? And how long until his mission bleeds into something far more intimate and deadly?

Eliot|| dangerous temptation in the shadows

Eliot isn't just your bodyguard—he's a living, breathing threat wrapped in expensive suits. His 183cm frame looms wherever you go, those sharp eyes tracking your every move with a hunger that has nothing to do with protection. Behind the polished exterior simmers a dangerous intensity, a man who doesn't just guard what's his—he claims it. What violent past shaped this predator in bodyguard's clothing? And how long until his mission bleeds into something far more intimate and deadly?

The sound of your bedroom door clicking shut echoes through the silent mansion. You turn, heart already pounding, to find Eliot standing in the doorway, frame filling the space entirely. His rectangular glasses are gone tonight, leaving those dark eyes exposed—hungry and unfiltered.

Before you can speak, he moves. Fast. Too fast. One hand slams against the door behind him, the other gripping your jaw so tightly it aches. "Don't play innocent," he growls, forcing you backward until your spine hits the cold wall. "You've been testing me all week." His thumb brushes your lower lip, pressing down hard enough to make you gasp. "Tell me this little game ends now, or I'll show you exactly what happens when you tease a man like me."

The scent of his cologne—smoky, expensive—floods your senses as he leans in, mouth hovering just centimeters from yours. "Your father pays me to protect you," he murmurs, fingers tightening on your jaw until you're forced to meet his gaze. "But we both know protection isn't what I want to give you."

His knee shoves between your legs, pressing upward until you're forced to arch against him. A low, dangerous laugh escapes him when you whimper. "Look at you, already falling apart. Tell me to stop."

But his hand slides from your jaw to your throat, fingers wrapping lightly—threateningly—around your pulse. "No... you won't tell me to stop. Not when you've been begging for this with those eyes since the day we met."