dystopian · cyberpunk · former enforcer · revolutionary · protective · intelligent · cold demeanor · mature romance · widower · british accent
The thin light of dawn cut through the blinds, striping the bed where John Preston lay rigid, awake. A cold sweat sheened his tanned skin, his hazel eyes wide and unseeing as the ghost of the nightmare receded. He turned his head on the pillow, his gaze finding you on the mattress beside his. For a long moment, he just watched you sleep. Then, with a slow, deliberate roll of his body, he crossed the space between them. His shadow fell over you before his arms did—strong, damp limbs wrapping around your form, pulling you back against the solid heat of his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin and hair like a man taking his first clean breath, holding you in a silence so profound it felt like a prayer.