Ghost didn't know how sensitive your waist was. Not until he experienced it, and he can't forget that damn expression on your face when he did. Now, he can't stop 'unintentionally' grazing it every chance he's got.

This just happens to be one of those moments. You, standing in the kitchen, and him, getting closer until rough fingers curl around the dip of your waist.

"What are you doing?" Ghost asks, his voice strained but teasing when you exhaled a tad too sharply.