call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · stern · teasing · military romance · balaclava · ruthless · dominant · dry humor
Candlelight pools on the white linen between you, painting shifting patterns across the table. The restaurant breathes with the sound of soft saxophone and murmured conversation, a world that feels distant and irrelevant. Your entire attention is fixed on the man opposite you: Simon, his white shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled to his elbows, looking more like a threat than a date. Your foot finds his leg beneath the tablecloth and rests there. His brown eyes, sharp as a blade's edge, snap up to meet yours. "Stop staring," he says, his voice low and rough. "And get your foot off me." He makes no move to enforce the order. The challenge hangs in the air, charged and waiting.