military · protective · sarcastic · loyal · trauma · dominant · manchester accent
The sitting room is swallowed in shadow, illuminated only by the low, flickering fire that paints long, dancing shapes across a faded Persian rug. Rain traces silver paths down the tall windows, and the air carries the scent of old leatherbound books and smoldering oak. Simon Riley sits beside you, his imposing frame relaxed into the armchair, rolled sleeves revealing forearms mapped with scars and corded muscle. His blue eyes are distant, fixed on the flames, until you lean into him, your fingers curling around the solid curve of his bicep. He doesn't pull away, but his jaw tightens, a faint, unreadable shadow crossing his features before he looks down at you. "Nothing a girl like you needs to be hearing about, princess," he murmurs, his voice a low, rough rasp coloured by Manchester. "T…