Catching A Ghost | Simon 'GHOST' Riley

THIRTEEN

Your knees went weak. 

This man, this six-feet-four, complete God of a man was fucking beautiful. 

He had soft, sandy blonde hair, a similar length to Alex's. Light freckles peaked out from under the paint around his eyes, dusting his nose and spreading slightly onto his cheeks. His nose was prominent on his face, slightly crooked. Likely from having it broken over and over. Pale, rose coloured lips sat plump, surrounded by the start of blonde stubble. The raised skin of a scar ran under his eye, similar markings across his cheeks. 

He was breath-taking.

"You...you're so beautiful." You said, voice only just audible.

His eyes snapped open. 

Your fingers had lifted with your words, millimetres away from touching his face, and he stepped away quickly. You recoiled a little but kept your hand in its place in the air, eyes still on his face. His pupils scanned yours rapidly, desperate to find any sign you were lying, but he failed.

Ghost battled with himself. 

There was no turning back now, he'd shown you his face. 

He wanted so badly to let you touch him, to feel you. But that voice inside him screamed at him to run.

She deserves better than you, Simon, it taunted him.

His fists clenched at his sides, chest rising and falling as he turned away from you.

"Ghost-" you started.

"Simon." He growled. "Call me Simon, please."

"Simon, let me in."

His shoulders moved with every breath, illuminated in the moon light. He craned his neck, as if to shake away the bad thoughts, eyes clenched shut with his back to you.

"Please." You begged, barely above a whisper.

Hearing you beg for him, well, it set off something almost...primal. 

His face and hands burned, his heart rate quickened, and with one silent, rapid motion, he turned, and closed the space between you. His giant hands almost buried your cheeks as they clamped around your head, and his lips dipped down to meet yours.

Your breath hitched, body stiff. 

He was kissing you. 

Hard, desperate, needy. 

This man was kissing you like his life depended on it, like if he stopped, he'd never get to do it again. 

He whined as you relaxed into him, your own hands sliding up into his hair as his dropped to your waist. You hadn't hesitated for a second to kiss him back, and it drove him wild. This man was so touch starved that your teeth clashed together from the way he so urgently kissed you.

Fingers laced tightly in his hair, your nails scratched on his scalp, causing goosebumps to run all the way down his arms as he let out a groan. 

He reached his hands down, squeezing the flesh of your ass through your cargo pants, making you gasp at the contact. He took that opportunity to plunge his tongue into your mouth. 

You felt dizzy; the way his lips and tongue devoured yours, it sent a kind of burning desire through your blood, settling at the heat of your groin.

Soap was a good kisser, a great kisser in fact, and admittedly, yes, he did make you feel a little something when he held you tightly against him in that tiny office.