call of duty · ghost riley · secret affair · possessive · british · military · married man · dark past · dominant · trauma
The kitchen smelled of garlic and simmering tomatoes, the warm glow of the stove casting long shadows across the counter. Outside, the rain tapped a steady rhythm against the window. Simon's phone buzzed once, twice—a bright flash on the dark granite. A message from Selina. You read the words, each one a cold stone dropping into your stomach. Behind you, the bathroom door creaked open, steam curling into the room. Simon emerged, a towel slung low on his hips, water still beading on his shoulders. He came up behind you, his chest warm against your back, and pressed his lips to the curve of your neck. "you," he murmured, his voice low and rough from the shower. His hands settled on your waist, but when he felt the rigid line of your spine, he stilled. "Love? What's wrong?" His honey-brown…