Evil MC's NTR Harem

Here, under the blanket, the world felt distant. Distant and quiet.

No cameras. No watchers. No rules.

Just heat, breath, and the unmistakable awareness of two bodies sharing the same narrow space.

Heaven's back hit the pillows, and she found herself face to face with Ross—bare skin brushing against her clothed body, her senses flaring in every direction.

The scent of him was clean and warm, tinged with something spicy from whatever soap he used. It was suddenly hard to think clearly.

Ross propped himself up on one elbow, his face just inches from hers.

"Relax," he murmured, voice low and intimate. "I didn't bring you here to devour you. Unless…" His lips curved with amusement. "…you ask nicely."

She glared at him—or tried to. But the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her.

"You're impossible," she whispered, more breath than voice.

"And you're beautiful when you're flustered," Ross replied without missing a beat.

His hand moved, slow and careful, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek.

The touch was light, but it left a trail of fire in its wake.

She sucked in a breath, her body tensing again—and yet, she didn't pull away. Not this time.

"You've got a boyfriend," he said softly, studying her face.

"And I should probably care. But I don't."

Heaven looked away, swallowing hard.

"You kissed me back," he added, his tone quieter now. "Twice."

"I didn't mean to," she replied, almost too quickly. "It just… happened."

Ross didn't argue. He didn't need to.

"You're here now," he said simply.

And that was the truth, wasn't it?

She was here. Under the blanket. With him.

Every excuse she wanted to make crumbled under the weight of his presence, under the intensity of this strange, undeniable pull she felt whenever she was around him.

He was dangerous—not because he was cruel or toxic—but because he made her question everything.

Her relationship. Her boundaries. Herself.

Heaven let out a shaky sigh, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Are you always like this with girls?"

Ross smiled again—slow, confident, magnetic. "No," he said honestly. "Just you."

That answer shouldn't have made her heart skip.

But it did.

They lay in silence for a moment, the hum of the house beyond the door barely audible.

The blanket rustled slightly as Ross adjusted beside her, not touching, but close—so close she could feel the heat of his body radiating through the air.

She didn't move.

Heaven lay motionless beneath the blanket, swallowed in the warmth and closeness of Ross's body beside her.

The world outside felt distant, almost unreal—like a dream she hadn't meant to fall into but was now helpless to leave.

The sound of her own heartbeat roared in her ears, loud and unrelenting, as if her body was screaming at her to feel, not think.

And she was feeling—too much, too fast.

She shouldn't be here. That thought flickered across her mind like a warning siren.

She had a boyfriend. A kind, reliable man who'd always been there for her.

They had shared years together, and though their relationship had always been simple and comfortable, it was real.

But even so... it had never been like this.

With Ross, everything felt more intense—raw and vivid.

The way his eyes locked onto hers, the heat in his gaze, the knowing curve of his mouth... he didn't just look at her—he saw her.

And touched her like he had every right to, as if she were already his.

She told herself she was only here because of the kiss earlier.

That it had shaken her up, made her curious. But it was more than that.

Much more.

Ross had touched her breast through her shirt and she hadn't pushed him away.

It had been wrong—so wrong—but she hadn't hated it.

In fact, her body had betrayed her completely, responding to him with a hunger she hadn't known was there.

Not even with her boyfriend. That realization alone rattled her.

And now, here he was. Inches above her. Bare-chested, confident, and completely relaxed, as if he belonged here—in her space, in this moment, in her.

She could smell him again. That intoxicating scent. Clean. Masculine.

A bit spicy with something earthy and addictive.

It filled her nose, her head, her lungs—like she couldn't breathe in anything else.

"He smells so good…" she thought, dazedly, her gaze drifting to his face.

His expression was unreadable but soft, his eyes never leaving hers.

They were filled with something playful… and something deeper. He didn't rush her.

He didn't push. But the space between them felt electric, charged with things unsaid.

With want.

His chest pressed lightly against hers with every breath. His warmth wrapped around her like a blanket under the blanket.

She realized then just how close they were—his thigh brushing against hers, his hand resting beside her head, the weight of his body pinning her down just enough to remind her she wasn't going anywhere unless he let her.

And she didn't want to go anywhere.

She was done thinking. Done resisting.

Eventually, one of them had to move.

Ross leaned in first, slow and steady, giving her every chance to turn her head, to say "no," to make him stop.

But she didn't.

She didn't flinch.

She didn't say a word.

She just closed her eyes… and accepted him.

Their lips met.

It was soft at first. Just a brush of skin. Gentle. Almost reverent.

As if Ross were testing the waters again, gauging whether she was truly willing.

And she was.

The moment stretched between them, long and unhurried, until Ross tilted his head and kissed her more fully.

His lips moved against hers with quiet confidence—deliberate, tender, yet demanding a response.

She gave one, timid at first, then bolder.

Her hand rose from her side, trembling slightly, and rested on his shoulder.

His skin was warm beneath her touch. Solid. Real.

She tilted her chin instinctively, deepening the kiss, letting his presence fill her completely.

Her body trembled beneath his, but not from fear. From anticipation.

From surrender.