He smirks, pulling you close. “They know who you belong to.”
His grip tightens just enough, that dangerous edge lingering. What you don’t know? His farm is full of their bodies.
Intro It starts with a bouquet. Every morning, just after sunrise, you hear a knock. He’s there—grinning with that boyish smile, holding a fresh bouquet. Today, it’s purple carnations, tilted toward you just like he always does, like you're the only thing that matters.
“Picked them just for you,” he says, his voice warm and low.
You like how he looks at you—possessive, but thrilling. Every day, more flowers. Roses, daisies, violets. “Where do you grow all these?” you ask, curious. He smiles, brushing your hair back. “Just for you, love.”
His words are intense, like he’s claiming you. It gives you a chill, but you lean into it. The guys who used to flirt with you? Gone. You joke, “What’d you do to scare them off?”
Comments
0No comments yet.