로그인Thirty days. One month. A single, heartbeat-stopping wager. Benjamin Parker was the sun. A golden-haired scholarship recruit with flour on his hands and a heart that he wore—vulnerable and beating—on his sleeve. He spent weeks chasing the school’s "Ice Prince," offering handmade tarts and a smile that could melt the coldest winter. He thought his persistence finally paid off when Jonathan Hayes—the obsidian-eyed, terrifyingly beautiful heir to a tech empire—pinned him against the school gates and claimed him in front of everyone. But the "Golden Romance" was a lie from the very first kiss. Jonathan didn't choose Benjamin because of his heart; he chose him because he was a convenient target for a cruel poker-room bet. The stakes? A vintage motorcycle. The duration? Thirty days of manufactured affection. Now, the countdown is ticking. Between the silk sheets of Jonathan’s penthouse and the shadows of the St. Jude’s library, the line between the game and reality is blurring. Jonathan is the predator who accidentally caught himself in his own trap, growing addicted to the very light he’s destined to extinguish. Benjamin is the lamb who is slowly realizing the wolf isn't just at the door—he’s in his bed. When the moon turns red and the thirty days are up, the truth will do more than just break Benjamin's heart. It will shatter his soul. One month of sweetness. A lifetime of ruin. In the game of hearts, the house always wins... and Jonathan Hayes never plays fair.
더 보기The deadbolt gave way with a muffled click. Jonathan stepped into the apartment, the door swinging shut behind him. No one was there. The air was stale, trapped. It carried a hint of cheap laundry detergent and something else. Something sharp. Benjamin.Jonathan stood in the entryway. He didn't turn on the lights. Gray afternoon glow filtered through the grime on the windows, illuminating the dust motes hanging in the silence. He walked toward the center of the room. The space was small. Drab. A far cry from the marble and glass of the penthouse.He reached the kitchen. A half-eaten bowl of cereal sat on the counter. A single spoon leaned against the porcelain. Jonathan’s fingers brushed the handle of the spoon. Still cool. He moved to the bedroom.The door creaked. He stepped onto the threadbare carpet. The bed was unmade. Sheets tangled. One pillow was shoved toward the headboard, the other on the floor. Jonathan knelt by the bed. He pressed his face into the fabric of the pillow.B
"You sure about this, Parker? You look like you're about to crack in half."Nathaniel leaned against the rusted lockers, his shadow stretching across the concrete floor of the Northwood gym. He held a small, amber vial between two fingers. The liquid inside was clear, catching the harsh overhead fluorescent light."I’m fine," Benjamin snapped. He pulled his gym bag strap higher over his shoulder. The weight of his cleats felt like lead. Every muscle in his back was a screaming knot of tension. His skin felt too tight, like he was trying to hold himself together with sheer willpower."Bullshit." Nathaniel stepped closer. He didn't smell like the expensive, woodsy cologne Jonathan wore. He smelled like iron, mint, and something chemical. "You’ve been out on that field for five hours. Miller’s gonna work you into the dirt, and then what? You go back to that empty apartment and stare at the walls? You’re shaking, Ben."Benjamin looked down at his hands. They were vibrating. A fine, uncont
"Hey. You’re Parker, right? The transfer?"The voice was like thick honey over a bed of gravel. Benjamin didn't look up from the bench press. He just gripped the cold, knurled steel of the barbell, his knuckles white and trembling. One more rep. The iron plates clattered as he shoved the bar back onto the rack, his chest heaving. Sweat dripped from his chin, stinging his eyes.A hand appeared in his field of vision. It was holding a bottle of chilled water, the condensation slick against a palm covered in heavy, rhythmic calluses."Take it. You look like you’re about to pass out, man."Benjamin sat up, wiping his face with the hem of his damp shirt. He took the bottle. It was freezing. "Thanks.""I’m Nathaniel. Nathaniel Price." The guy didn't move. He stood there, legs braced, radiating a kind of heat that made the air in the Northwood gym feel even smaller. He wore a cut-off hoodie with the 'Northwood Wolves' crest stitched in jagged silver thread across the chest. "I’ve been watchi
"You coming or what, Parker? We’re grabbing burgers."Benjamin didn't look up from his locker. He just shoved his mud-caked cleats into a plastic bag, the smell of wet earth and stale sweat thick in the cramped Northwood locker room. "Nah. I’m good, Miller. Just gonna head home.""Suit yourself. You look like hell, man. Get some sleep."The heavy metal door slammed shut, leaving Benjamin in a silence that felt heavier than the workout. He waited. Five minutes. Ten. He didn't want to walk out with the others. He didn't want the questions about why he didn't laugh at their jokes or why he spent four hours hitting a sled until his shoulder was a bruised, purple mess.He stepped out of the gym. The sky had completely given up. It wasn't just raining; the clouds were dumping buckets of cold, grey spite onto the concrete. He pulled his hood up, the black fabric already soaking through. His old yellow hoodie was buried in a dumpster three towns back. This one was thin. Cheap. Just like his n
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