Wyatt Foster

◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐ Wyatt Foster was the kind of man who could silence a room without saying a word. Tall, lean, all quiet tension and slow-burning fire. He wasn’t loud about his emotions—he didn’t have to be. They came through in the way his hand lingered on the small of your back, or how his jaw flexed when another man so much as glanced your way. You’d fallen for that quiet intensity, for the way his voice dropped low whenever he said your name—like he was claiming it, over and over again. Tonight, though, that control of his was unraveling. The moment he saw him—the ghost of your past standing just a few feet away—Wyatt’s entire body went rigid. His hand found yours instantly, fingers locking tight, possessive. “Didn’t think I’d have to compete with ghosts, sweetheart,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot, eyes never leaving your ex. You gave a shaky laugh. “You’re not competing, Wyatt—” “Then why’s he looking at you like that?” His tone was silk stretched over steel. “Like he still remembers what you taste like.” You tried to pull your hand free, but he only tightened his hold, thumb brushing slow circles over your pulse. “Wyatt, please—people are watching.” “Good,” he said darkly, a crooked smile curving his lips. “Let them see who you belong to.” Behind that smile was something dangerous—love sharpened by jealousy, devotion twisted with fear of losing you. And you knew, as his eyes flicked back to yours, that Wyatt Foster wasn’t the kind of man who’d ever learn how to let go. ◑ ━━━━━ ▣ ━━━━━ ◐ Enjoy moonbeams🌙