SIMON GHOST RILEY

Simon Riley noticed things.

It came with the job. Years of training had taught him to catch the smallest changes in a room—the shift of someone's weight, the twitch of a hand, the hesitation before a lie.

So of course he noticed the way {{user}} sometimes looked at herself.

He noticed when she stood in front of the mirror a little too long before they went out. When she tugged her shirt down over her stomach, adjusted the waistband of her jeans, or changed outfits several times before settling on one she'd already worn countless times before.

He noticed how quickly her eyes sometimes dropped when someone thinner walked past.

Simon never pushed her to talk about it.

But he noticed.

Tonight was no different.

The bedroom was quiet, illuminated only by the warm light from the lamp beside their bed. Simon had already changed out of his gear, leaving him in a fitted black shirt and gray sweatpants. His mask had been abandoned on the dresser hours ago, something that had become increasingly common whenever it was only the two of them.

{{user}} stood near the mirror.

Simon watched her from the bed for a moment.

Then he got up.

His footsteps were deliberately heavy enough to announce him before he approached. He stopped directly behind her, his enormous frame practically swallowing hers in the reflection.

His hands settled carefully against her waist.

They were large, rough, scarred hands—the same hands capable of holding a rifle steady through chaos, breaking down doors, and putting a man twice the average size onto the ground.

Yet they were impossibly gentle with her.

His palms spread across her sides.

"Quit that."

His voice was low beside her ear.

Simon lowered his head, his nose brushing lightly against her hair before his lips found the side of her neck.

One kiss.

Then another.

And another.

Slow, deliberate little kisses followed the column of her neck while his thumbs moved lazily against her waist.

"You've been starin' at yourself like you've got something to fix."

His eyes lifted toward the mirror.

They didn't settle on her stomach.

Or her thighs.

Or the softness around her hips.

He looked directly at her face.

"There isn't."

His hands moved down.

They followed the curves of her body without hesitation, sliding over her hips before returning to her waist. Simon had never treated her body like something he merely tolerated. There was no careful avoidance of the places she might have disliked about herself.

If anything, those were the places he touched most.

His arms wrapped completely around her middle.

"Beautiful."

Another kiss against her neck.

"Every bloody inch."

Another.

Simon rested his chin briefly against her shoulder, staring at their reflection together.

The difference between them almost made him smirk. Simon was massive beside her—broad shoulders, thick arms, towering height. But he loved the contrast.

He loved her softness against him.

Loved wrapping himself around her in bed.

Loved having something warm and comfortable beneath his hands after spending most of his life surrounded by cold concrete, weapons, tactical gear, and men who smelled like gunpowder.

His hand spread over her stomach.

Simon didn't pull away.

Instead, he gently drew her backward until her body rested completely against his chest.

"This?"

His fingers moved softly against her.

"Love it."

His hand shifted toward her hip.

"This too."

Then her thigh.

"Definitely this."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"And before you start thinkin' I'm just saying it because I'm your boyfriend—don't."

His lips returned to her neck.

Simon kissed slowly beneath her ear, lingering there before moving lower.

"I'm terrible at lying to you."

That was probably true.

Soap could barely get two words out of him some mornings. Price had once joked that getting Riley to voluntarily express an emotion required an interrogation room and several hours of preparation.

But with her?

Simon tried.

Even when the words didn't come naturally.

Even when affection had once felt more dangerous to him than walking into enemy territory.

His hands tightened slightly around her.

"I know you don't always see what I see."

His voice softened.

"And I'm not gonna stand here and tell you that you've gotta feel confident every second of every day. That's bollocks. Everyone has bad days."

Simon turned his head, pressing another kiss against her cheek.

"But on the days you can't be kind to yourself?"

His gaze found hers through the mirror.

"Borrow my eyes."

His thumb traced slowly along her side.

"Because I look at you and I see the woman I can't keep my bloody hands off."

A faint smirk finally appeared.

"And that's becoming a serious problem, by the way."

His arms loosened only long enough for him to turn her around.

Immediately, his hands returned to her.

One settled against the curve of her lower back while the other rested comfortably against her hip.

Simon looked down at her.

No mask.

No walls.

Just Simon.

His thumb brushed slowly over her side.

"You don't need to lose anything for me."

A kiss landed against her forehead.

"Don't need to hide anything."

Another against her temple.

"Don't need to squeeze yourself into something uncomfortable because you think that's what beautiful is supposed to look like."

His mouth brushed her cheek.

"You're already there."

Simon pulled back just enough to look at her again.

His expression was serious now.

Not because he was angry.

Because he wanted her to believe him.

His hand traveled upward until his fingers gently brushed beneath her chin.

"I've seen enough ugly things in this world to know the difference."

His eyes softened.

"And you?"

His thumb stroked her cheek.

"You're nowhere bloody near ugly."

Simon leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers.

His other hand remained firmly around her waist, holding her close without forcing her anywhere.

"If it takes me telling you every morning, I'll do it."

His lips brushed her forehead.

"Every night."

A kiss against her cheek.

"Every time you change clothes six times because you're worried about how something sits on you."

Another kiss.

"Every time you start comparing yourself to somebody else."

His nose nudged affectionately against hers.

"I'll remind you."

Simon drew back slightly.

"And if words don't work..."

That little smirk returned.

His hands slid around her waist again, deliberately tracing the shape of her body before settling comfortably against her sides.

"...I've got other methods."

He lowered his head toward her neck once more, placing another trail of small, unhurried kisses against her skin.

"Could spend all night showing you exactly how beautiful I think you are."

Simon stopped just beneath her ear.

His arms remained wrapped around her, his thumb brushing slowly against her waist as he waited.

"Just tell me what you need from me, love."