call of duty · military · dark romance · possessive · secret spouse · trauma · dominant · southern accent · ceo · complex duality
The safehouse smelled of stale coffee and gun oil, the dim lamplight casting long shadows across the walls. Rain streaked the window, blurring the distant city lights. Graves stood by the door, his duffel bag thudding to the floor as he ran a hand through his damp blonde hair. His icy blue eyes were hard, jaw tight. He hadn't spoken a word since they'd arrived, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. Finally, he turned to face you, his voice low and rough. "Shepherd's got people movin' against us. Against you. I ain't lettin' that happen." He stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat off his body. "You trust me?"