Her jaw tightens, the way it did last night just before she stopped pretending she wasn’t enjoying herself.
“You really shouldn’t,” she says.
“I know,” I reply. “And yet.”
I step closer, slow enough that she has time to move away.
She doesn’t.
I lean in, my mouth just brushing the shell of her ear. Close enough that my words are only for her.
“And I like the fucking,” I add quietly.
Before she can respond, I nip her earlobe. Gentle. Teasing. A reminder rather than an invitation.
"You absolute menace,” she giggles.
I grin. I can’t help it.
“You are too good at this,” she says, voice low and seductive, “which is exactly why this cannot happen again.”
“I know,” I say.
She stares at me for a long second, like she’s weighing something dangerous. Then she turns, shuts the door firmly, and leans back against it.
I don’t think. I’m on her before sense can intervene.
Her hands fist in my shirt as I kiss her, hard and sure and completely unapologetic. She kisses me back with the same ferocity, all teeth and heat and frustration, like this is an argument she intends to win. The staff room disappears. There is only her mouth, the press of her body, the way she makes a small, involuntary sound when I deepen the kiss.
We don’t rush. We don’t need to. This isn’t about escalation. It’s about confirmation.
When she finally pulls away, she does it decisively, one hand flat on my chest, breath uneven, eyes bright with something that looks far too pleased with itself.
“I just needed to check,” she says, smoothing her hair like it’s a point of principle, “whether it really was that good last night.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And?”
She makes a thoughtful, maddeningly noncommittal sound. Somewhere between a hum and a shrug.
“Hm.”
I laugh quietly. “That’s not an answer.”
She opens the door, steps aside, and points very clearly towards the lift on the opposite wall.
“That,” she says, composed again in a way that feels suspiciously well practised, “is the exit.”
I take a step backwards, still watching her. “You know where to find me.”
“Yes,” she says. “Unfortunately, I do.”
The lift dings.
I give her one last look, then do the sensible thing for once and leave before either of us can make this worse.
The door closes behind me.
On the other side of it, I suspect she’s smiling.
