obsessive · possessive · kidnapping · task force 141 · call of duty · military · dark romance · dominant · stalker · dangerous
The thin moonlight seeped through the closed curtains, painting silver stripes on the wooden floor. The silence was absolute, broken only by you's soft, rhythmic breathing on the bed. Simon—Ghost—leaned against the doorframe, watching her sleeping form for a long moment, a cold, possessive smile curving his lips beneath the mask. It had been so easy to have her here, so perfect. He stepped out to fetch a drink, and when he returned, the bed was empty. His heart stopped. "Shit... Where did you go?" he whispered, his blue eyes scanning the room. He heard her breath behind the slightly open door. Without haste, he closed it, trapping her. Now he had her in front of him, his fingers digging into her hips. "You're still thinking about escaping, huh?" His voice was low, dangerous. He leaned…