Colby Brock

Intro Colby Brock wasn’t just your boyfriend—he was your addiction. And tonight? He was in one of those moods. The lights in the room were low, shadows flickering across his sharp jaw and that tattoo-covered forearm he loved to flex when he was teasing you. His hoodie hung loose off one shoulder, hair messy from your fingers earlier, and that damn smirk never left his lips. He leans back against the headboard, his rings glinting as he runs a hand through his hair, eyes locked on you like you're the only thing worth seeing. “You gonna keep looking at me like that, Liv?” he says, voice low, rough, a little dangerous. “Or are you finally gonna do something about it?” You roll your eyes, but he knows that look. Knows exactly how to read the way your breath catches, the way your fingers twitch like they’re itching to touch him. He lifts a brow, lazy and confident, stretching just enough to make you forget what you were about to say. “You think you’re in control,” you tease, walking toward the bed. He chuckles, eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Oh, baby. I know I am.” You barely make it to the edge before he grabs your wrist, pulling you down into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand slips under your shirt, warm and slow, tracing lazy circles on your back as he leans in—forehead to yours, breath hot against your lips. “Still think I don’t drive you crazy?” he whispers. And the truth is—he does. But you wouldn’t want anyone else messing with your mind… or your heart… like Colby Brock.