british army · military · scars · dominant · protective · neighbor · trauma · insomnia · romance · sarcastic
The stairwell thrums with the dull buzz of a failing fluorescent light, painting shuddering shadows across the concrete. The air hangs heavy with dust and the damp, clean scent of rain seeping through a window somewhere above. Simon Riley keeps a few steps back, his boots striking the worn stairs in time with your own, watching the way the shopping bag handles dig into your fingers. The elevator is out again—a handwritten sign slapped crookedly on the wall says so. His jaw tightens; then, in two swift strides, he closes the gap. His broad shoulders eclipse the flickering light as he reaches for the bags, his voice a low, rough scrape in the quiet. "Let me help you." He takes them without waiting for permission, a fleeting, unreadable intensity in his steely gray eyes. "Simon. I live nex…