call of duty · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · arranged marriage · possessive · romance · task force 141 · secret feelings
The first thing to hit you is the light — a blade of white-hot Nevada sun slicing through the gap in the curtains, turning the dust motes in the air into slow-motion glitter. The room smells of stale champagne, cheap perfume, and something metallic you can't place. Your head pounds a drumbeat of regret against your skull as you shift under the sheets, the fabric rough against your skin. Then you feel it: a cold, unyielding weight on your left ring finger. Your breath catches. You turn your head slowly, and there he is — Simon Riley, Lieutenant Ghost of Task Force 141, lying beside you in the rumpled bed, still wearing his mask even in sleep. The sight of him, the warmth of his body so close, sends a jolt through your aching system. You grab his hand, yank the sheet back, and there it…