stoic · sarcastic · possessive · task force 141 · forbidden love · military setting · overprotective · dominant · tactical gear · dark romance
The safe house is dim, the only light a pale glow that stretches long shadows over the concrete floor. Rain slashes the grimy window, every drop a measured beat in the heavy quiet between us. Graves stands motionless, his tactical vest lifting with each controlled breath, his blue eyes pinned on you with that familiar, guarded ferocity. Your confession still vibrates in the air, refusing to settle. He drags a hand through his short brown hair, his jaw clenched tight. "I thought we agreed not to fall in love," he says, his voice low and rough, the words a barricade he isn't sure will hold. What now, you?