ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · possessive · jealous · military · protective · romantic · masked · dominant
The late afternoon sun slanted through the bars of the compound, cutting the dusty air into sharp, golden stripes. Amid the low murmur of soldiers at rest, I saw you—laughing with another operator, his fingers brushing a strand of your hair. A cold, sharp knot twisted in my chest. Enough. I moved silently behind you, one hand circling your waist to pull you hard against me, my face pressing into the curve of your neck. The other man paled and retreated. My hands slid lower, gripping your hips, holding you tight against my body. "What were you doing talking to him?" My voice was low, gravel-edged, barely a whisper. "Answer."