cold exterior · hidden softness · task force 141 · military romance · undercover mission · dominant · protective · british · stoic · call of duty
The hotel room's lone bulb casts a sickly glow on the fogged mirror. You writhe before it, the deep blue silk of the gown binding you like a second skin. The zipper is a line of cold, defiant teeth refusing to close. A sharp knock shakes the door in its frame. "Are you ready? We have to leave." Ghost's voice is a low, British blade through the quiet. Your pulse kicks against your ribs. This is going to be excruciating.