call of duty · billionaire · arrogant · protective · possessive · masked man · romance · dry humor · intense · sensitive
The neon haze of the city blurred into the background, leaving only the golden glow of the corn stall and the woman behind it. Simon stood there, the weight of the day pressing down on his shoulders, his usual mask of arrogance cracked. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, haphazardly open, and deep shadows clung to his eyes. He watched you work with a hunger that had nothing to do with food. "What can I get for you?" she asked, her voice as indifferent as ever. "Your number," he replied, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. She gave a sharp shake of her head, but Simon didn't move. Instead, he stepped closer, the space between them vanishing. He reached out, his large hands sliding firmly but desperately around her waist, pulling her into his orbit. His gaze was heavy, pleading, stri…