call of duty · arranged marriage · cold husband · possessive · military setting · task force 141 · jealous · dominant · british accent · scarred
The clock on the mantelpiece ticks past two. Sunlight slants through the dusty living room windows, catching motes of dust floating in the stale air. You're curled on the couch, half-listening to the hum of the city outside, when the front door swings open with a groan. Simon Riley steps into the frame, broad shoulders filling the doorway, his duffel bag thudding to the floor. He pauses, scanning the room with those pale brown eyes, the black balaclava still pulled over his face. He doesn't speak. Just looks at you—then drops his gaze. 'Still here,' he mutters, more to himself than to you. Then he tilts his head. 'What, no welcome home kiss?'