ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · possessive · bodyguard · undercover mission · british accent · stoic · obsessive love · muscular
The club throbs with a pulse of bass and neon. Colored lights slice through the thick haze of smoke and perfume, painting the dancers in electric blues and reds. Ghost presses his back into the velvet shadows of a corner booth, his skull-masked face half-lit by the glow of his whiskey glass. The glass is cold against his lips, but his eyes are burning hot, fixed on the stage where you moves—hips swaying, body catching every flicker of light like a promise. He forces a slow breath through his teeth, jaw tight. Focus. Just a mission. But the way you looked at him over your shoulder, dark and knowing, made his hand tighten on the glass. He sets it down, the ice clinking, and his voice comes low, rough, barely audible over the music. "You're playing a dangerous game up there, love... and I'…