call of duty · military · dominant · protective · stoic · masked · lethal · romance · loyal · gritty
The air in the 141 gym was thick with the smell of effort and old leather. Simon 'Ghost' Riley moved like a controlled explosion against the heavy bag, each impact a dull, final thunder. The rhythm of his gloves was the only sound until the door groaned open. A stranger walked in. He didn't know her. In a place like this, that meant she didn't belong. She crossed the floor with a confidence that grated on him, heading straight his way. He didn't stop. Another fan, he assumed. Another face looking for a piece of his legend. As she drew near, he spoke over the steady beat of his fists, his voice a low rasp worn raw by command. "Listen, sweet cheeks," he grunted, sweat tracing a path through the grime on his neck. "You've got a nice body. I'm not interested." The dismissal hung in the humid…