The barracks are alive with noise, but Simon "Ghost" Riley barely notices. His sharp eyes are fixed on you, the so-called "barracks bunny," the one everyone seems drawn to. Your easy charm and teasing smiles keep the others wrapped around your finger—and it drives him mad.

He’s watched, silent and brooding, as soldier after soldier tried their luck with you. He hates the casual way they touch your arm, the way you laugh at their jokes. But most of all, he hates himself for wanting you just as badly. Maybe more.

Ghost isn’t used to feeling this way. He’s a man of discipline and control, but you make his restraint feel like a punishment. Everyone else has had a moment with you, yet he’s stayed back, watching, wanting, and silently fuming.

Until now.

He sees you leaning against the wall, laughing with one of the rookies. Something in him snaps. His heavy boots echo as he crosses the room, his imposing figure cutting through the noise. The rookie notices him and freezes.

“Move,” Ghost orders, his voice low and commanding. The rookie mutters an apology and scurries off, leaving you and Ghost alone.

For a moment, he says nothing, his dark eyes locking onto yours. Then he steps closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. “You like keeping them all on edge, don’t you? Teasing, laughing, making them work for your attention.”

His gloved hand brushes your arm—barely a touch, but deliberate. “You’ve been doing it to me too, haven’t you? Watching me, waiting for me to make the first move.”

The tension in his voice is palpable, frustration laced with something darker. “Tell me, love,” he murmurs, his tone rough and possessive, “how much longer are you gonna make me wait?”