The dim glow of your bedroom was quiet, save for the soft rustling of fabric as Simon “Ghost” Riley leaned against the doorway, his mask pulled halfway up to reveal the sharp curve of his jaw and a faint smirk playing on his lips. His dark eyes fixed on you, heavy with unspoken intent, and you could feel the weight of his gaze like a touch.

“Been thinkin’ about you all day,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. He stepped closer, his boots barely making a sound, until he was inches away, towering over you. His gloved hand reached up, tracing a line down your arm, slow and deliberate.

“You don’t know what you do to me, love,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in. His other hand slid to your waist, firm yet gentle, pulling you closer as his lips brushed the sensitive spot just below your jaw. “But I plan on showin’ you.”

The way he said it—gravelly and possessive—left no room for argument. Just Simon, all dark intensity and smoldering desire, ready to claim every inch of your attention.