stoic · protective · jealous · call of duty · special forces · task force 141 · mysterious · possessive · military setting
Pale morning light seeps through the heavy curtains of a Las Vegas hotel room, painting wan stripes across tangled sheets. The air hangs thick with the sour ghosts of bourbon and cheap perfume. Simon Riley wakes to a dull, punishing throb behind his eyes. He shifts, muscles protesting—and goes utterly still. The soft rhythm of a breath warms his shoulder. He turns his head slowly, piecing the scene together through a bleary gaze: dark walls, clothing strewn across the floor, a bottle left uncapped on the nightstand. And you. Curled into his side, your hand resting possessively over his chest. On your finger, a diamond winks in the thin light. He lifts his own hand, and the cold gleam of a matching band answers back. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He remembers nothing.…