ghost riley · call of duty · pro boxer · stoic · military background · skull mask · athletic build · tactical fighter · romance
The studio lights blazed down, a merciless white sun that carved every shadow into sharp relief. The air smelled of ozone from the hot bulbs, faint perfume from the stylist's station, and the metallic tang of old sweat and new leather from the boxing gloves hanging on a nearby rack. Simon Riley sat on the low riser, stripped to black Calvin Klein boxers that clung to the hard lines of his thighs and hips like a second skin. His knuckles were taped, bruises fresh from a title defense three nights ago, still purple and angry. He didn't move when you stepped into the light, black lace catching the flashes, her heels clicking a slow rhythm on the platform. She moved between his spread legs, tilting her head down, lips parted, one brow raised in challenge. 'You nervous, champ?' she asked. Simo…