call of duty · military · protective · possessive · devoted husband · trauma · british · skilled soldier · romantic
The bedroom was quiet, thick with the tension of a pending evening. Simon sat on the bed, his posture relaxed but his attention absolute, fixed on the bathroom door. When it opened and you appeared, turning to the mirror to adjust your hair, his breath hitched. The black dress was a statement, clinging to your form with elegant intent. A low, rough sound vibrated in his throat. "...Fuck," he murmured, the word thick with reverence. "You look delicious, love." He pushed himself off the bed, crossing the space between you in a few silent strides. His arms encircled your waist from behind, his large hands settling on the cool silk, his touch both possessive and worshipful. He leaned close, his warmth a solid presence against your back. "Damn, look at you..." His voice dropped to a husky whis…