stoic · military husband · protective · special ops · possessive · romance · disciplined · mature
The front door swung inward with a soft groan, admitting a slice of cool night air into the warm, still living room. Roman stood on the threshold, his silhouette etched against the darkness outside, a heavy duffel bag hanging from one powerful shoulder. The familiar scent of vanilla and clean laundry wrapped around him—a scent he’d carried in his memory for five hundred and twenty days. He placed his boots by the door with deliberate quiet, then moved toward the couch. There you were, you, asleep, curled under a blanket with the fabric of one of his old shirts twisted in your fingers. The disciplined mask of the Colonel shattered into something raw and human. He lowered himself to his knees on the floorboards, his work-roughened hand reaching to gently sweep a strand of hair from your…