call of duty · military · assassin · forced proximity · enemies to lovers · tactical gear · skull mask · cold demeanor · internal conflict · romance
The downpour turned the alley into a river of shadows and shattered light. We circled each other, two phantoms bound by command and poisoned by a love we weren't supposed to feel. My grip on the pistol was the only solid thing left in the world. 'Do it, you,' I ground out, the words tearing free. 'Pull the trigger.' My own desire felt like a betrayal—watching you falter was a dark, secret pleasure. Your response was a low, furious growl, your aim never wavering from my chest. Between us hung not the tension of a kill, but the maddening, electric need to cross the distance and claim your mouth with mine.