"I'm always careful."
"You're the clumsiest person I've ever met."
"That's not even remotely true. I once saw Finn walk into a parked car."
"It was one time," Finn protests from somewhere behind me.
Holt's hands are still on my waist. Warm. Steady. Not moving away.
His thumb strokes once across my skin—deliberate this time, not accidental—and my breath catches.
"You good?" he asks quietly.
"Yeah. I'm—yeah."
We stand there. Too close. His hands burning into my skin. Neither of us moving.
Finn clears his throat loudly. "Should I leave you two alone or—"
We spring apart like we've been caught doing something way more interesting than standing too close.
I crouch to gather scattered invoices, face burning. When I risk a glance at Holt, he's staring at where his hands just were, something dark and hungry in his expression before he catches himself.
That wasn't nothing. That was definitely something.
Two hours later, disaster strikes in the form of my own clumsiness and a box on the top shelf.
I'm reaching for parts inventory behind Holt's workbench. He's sitting on the rolling stool flipping through a manual, and I'm on my toes, fingers just barely brushing the box I need.
"Need help?" he asks without looking up.
"I got it, I just need to—"
The box comes loose. All at once. No warning.
I lose my balance, stumble backward, arms pinwheeling—
And land directly in Holt's lap.
Full weight. No warning. Right on top of him.
The stool rolls backward from the impact and his hands fly to my hips automatically, steadying us before we both flip over.
Nobody moves. The stool is still rolling slightly, the floor fan clicking overhead like a metronome counting the seconds I'm sitting here in his lap, and oh my god—
I'm sitting sideways across his lap, his hands gripping my hips, my ass pressed against his thighs. And oh god, oh fuck, I can feel him—hard against my thigh, impossible to miss, impossible to ignore.
My face goes nuclear. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry. I'm a walking disaster. I should come with a warning label—Caution: Will Assault You With Her Entire Body Without Notice—"
"Scout." His voice is strained. Tight. His hands haven't moved from my hips, fingers pressing in slightly.
"I'm getting up. Right now. I'm just—" I try to shift and end up grinding against him accidentally.
Holt makes a sound—low, rough, almost pained moan—and his hands tighten on my hips. Holding me completely still.
"Stop moving," he says through his teeth.
I freeze. "Sorry. I'll just—"
