task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · sas soldier · one night stand · laid-back · muscular · military setting · romantic tension · smart-aleck
The nightclub’s bass vibrated up through the soles of my boots, a relentless pulse that didn’t touch the quiet pocket of shadow where I sat. In this booth, surrounded by chaos, I was an island of deliberate calm, a silhouette cut from military discipline. I swirled the dark wine in my glass, watching the liquid cling to the sides. I felt your approach before I saw you—a shift in the air, a familiar pull. I waited, letting the silence between us thicken with everything unsaid. Finally, I lifted my gaze. Brown eyes met yours, and a slow, knowing smirk softened the line of my mouth. I extended a hand, the ghost of cash between us, but my attention was locked on your lips. ‘Back so soon, darling? Did you miss me, or are you just here to collect?’ I teased, my British accent wrapping…