365 Days Of Leon S. Kennedy
She hated him the moment he walked into her life...uninvited, cold, and way too handsome for her own safety.
He claimed her like a storm claims the sea.
Not gently.
Not softly.
But with force that made her knees tremble.
"You can't force me to be your wife," she snapped, lips red with rage.
"Then run," Leon said, stepping closer, voice like warm danger, "but I'll still own your shadow."
Stark Aaira was born into luxury, used to glitter and games. She partied too late, kissed too carelessly, and trusted no one. Especially not men who wore suits like armor and looked at her like sin.
Leon Scott Kennedy wasn't just a man. He was the man...the devil the mafia feared. Cold. Sharp. Broken in places no one dared to touch.
And now, he owned her for 365 days.
At first, all they did was argue. Her rebellion was loud, stubborn, messy. His silence was deadlier than a bullet. But then came a night when she kissed him first...out of fury, out of confusion.
And he kissed back like she was the only thing worth ruining.
Their kisses were fire.
Their fights were foreplay.
And their nights? A mess of tangled sheets, bruised lips, whispered names.
He never kissed her soft, and she never let him win easy.
But in between the rough hands and locked gazes, there were moments...
Moments when he tucked her hair behind her ear and didn't say a word.
Moments when she touched his scars and didn't ask where they came from.
"You confuse me," she whispered one night, bare skin to bare skin.
"Good," he said, brushing his thumb along her jaw. "I hope I burn you alive."
Every night, he sat in the dark with one song on repeat, his head bowed, cigarette untouched in his hand:
🎵"I've been through hell
And I don't wanna go back
You say you love me
But what kind of love is that?"
It was more than music. It was his confession.
And maybe,
Somewhere between rebellion and ruin, they begin to fall...
Not fast.
Not clean.
But real.
