Doom

In the dimly lit hallway, Remo carefully cradled Abby's limp form in his arms.

His heart raced as he ascended the staircase, her weight surprisingly light against his chest.

The scent of her perfume mixed with the faint aroma of alcohol, creating an intoxicating combination that made his head spin.

With each step, he couldn't ignore the magnetic pull he felt towards her, his fingers gently supporting her back.

As he reached his room, he laid her down on the bed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. A conflicted smile played on his lips, torn between concern and the undeniable attraction he felt for her.

Watching her sleep, her features relaxed peacefully, he found his mind spinning over the events of the day.

Only a few hours ago, he had told her that this whole arrangement was because he was bored and she shouldn't fall in love with him.

Yet now, she lay asleep in his bed, and he couldn't stop thinking about her. Confusion gripped him as he questioned his actions.

His eyes fixated on her figure, observing details that he knew he shouldn't be noticing. Her red hair sprawled out like a cascade of red silk, tempting enough for him to imagine his hand wrapped around it.

The hem of her dress had ridden up, revealing a tantalizing extra inch of thigh that defied modesty. Her skin appeared as smooth as silk, and he found himself clenching his fists to resist the urge to touch her.

Memories of earlier in the evening flashed through his mind. The way her skin had blushed the most delicate shade of crimson when he had held her hand.

And when she had asked him how big he was he had nearly lost it, an undeniable desire had surged within him—a powerful urge to have him in her mouth so that she could feel how big and thick he was.

She would looked so pretty on her knees as he chokes her. Will tears drain from her pretty innocent eyes?

He forcibly tore his gaze away, his jaw clenching with frustration as unwelcome thoughts overwhelmed his mind.

He scolded himself for entertaining such inappropriate notions. This was Izabella's best friend, for heaven's sake. Yet, something had changed, shifting imperceptibly.

He sighed, he shouldn't have agreed to this marriage in the first place. At least with the women he usually fucked they knew better than to expect anything from him.

He lifted Abby so he could tuck her beneath the covers but he stopped when he heard the muffled sounds from her.

A crease formed on his forehead as he noticed her restlessness. In her sleep, her face contorted with distress, a frown marrying her features. He could tell she was having a nightmare, her brow furrowing and her breathing becoming uneven.

Concern etched across his face, he hesitated only momentarily before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

His hand reached out to gently touch her arm, his touch light and cautious as if afraid of waking her, yet desperate to provide comfort.

"Abby," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing whisper in the dimly lit room. "It's just a dream. You're safe."

His words seemed to reach her subconscious, and her movements gradually eased. He continued to sit there, watching over her as her features relaxed once more.

The sight of her vulnerability tugged at him, erasing any remnants of the earlier conflict within him. In that moment, all he wanted was to shield her from whatever demons haunted her sleep.

As her breathing steadied and her face eased into a more serene expression, Remo's gaze lingered on her, his heart conflicted yet again.

He couldn't deny the protective instinct that surged within him, nor could he ignore the emotional connection that seemed to be deepening against his will.

He was in some deep trouble. The walls he had built around himself were crumbling faster than he could have anticipated. Every interaction, every fleeting touch seemed to be tearing down the defenses he had carefully constructed.

Remo found himself captivated by her vulnerability. Her delicate features, even in the midst of distress, had a certain beauty that he couldn't ignore. He watched her for a moment longer, his fingers itching to brush away the strands of hair that had fallen across her forehead.

His thoughts were in turmoil, battling between the growing attraction and lust he had for her and the rationality that warned him against such complications.

He had been clear about the nature of their arrangement, and he couldn't afford to lose sight of that.

Yet, in that quiet moment, as the weight of the situation pressed upon him, Remo couldn't escape the realization that he wanted her.

His imagination ran with vivid images of the contours of her body, the limbs and curves and skin that he had yet to see, the gentle swell of her breast as he held it in his palms.

He craved the intoxicating fragrance of her surrounding him, lingering on his skin. The thought of her long hair brushing against his throat and chest stirred a deep desire within him.

He wanted to do unspeakable things with her mouth, and with his own.

Fuck, he was doomed.