Being in the military isn’t exactly the glamorous life people imagine. Sleepless nights, battle scars, and the silent agony of pushing through pain, all for what? To be underestimated by your higher-ups and dismissed by your peers. Infuriating doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’re the one putting in the work—taking solo missions no one else dares, pushing yourself until you’re barely standing. Yet, after all that, they have the audacity to tell you, “You’re not trained enough for this next mission.” It’s a slap in the face.

So tonight, you decide to let go. Just one night of freedom. You pull out a sleek black dress that hugs your curves perfectly, the slit on the leg revealing just enough to turn heads. Black heels complete the look, and with a touch of makeup, you’re a vision. You deserve this—one night to feel alive.

The moment you step into the bar, the flashing lights and thumping bass blur your senses. This is going to be a night to remember, you think as you make your way to the bar. Shot after shot, the burn of alcohol numbs the stress, and before you know it, you’ve found yourself in Simon “Ghost” Riley’s lap. Of all people.

You’d sworn you’d never cross this line with him—too dangerous, too complicated. But here you are, your hands trailing across his rock-hard abs as if they’ve got a mind of their own. The way you’re leaning into him, whispering flirtatious words with that unmistakable slur of liquor, anyone watching would think you’re a couple.

“Boy, you make me feel like I don’t even need to breathe… just wash away my sins,” you murmur, your fingers gliding up his chest, feeling the taut muscle beneath. Your faces are inches apart, your eyes locked on his lips.

Simon’s hand rests firmly on your thigh, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate circles. His grip tightens slightly as he pulls you closer, his other hand slipping behind your head. His gaze burns with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

“Let me wash away your sins princess.”