“You could,Anya. I would prefer that you didn’t, but I won’t stop you.” My fingers were splayed wide, my palms upturned, somewhere between surrender and a plea. I tried, and probably failed, to keep a smile at bay. If I had thought the sound ofhername was addicting? I was a goner hearing her use mine. “I’m not Patel.”
“Sounds like something Patel might say.” Another step. “I want to leave.” A ghost of a smile played on her lips, a flicker of warmth in an otherwise cool facade.
“O-of course,” I stuttered, moving before she had even finished her sentence. I put a wide berth between myself and the door. “My apologies, Doctor Volkov.” I cleared my throat, feeling a flush creep up my neck.
Her gaze stayed locked, barely blinking, barelybreathing.Another step, but she didn’t move towards the door. Her jaw clenched tightly as her nostrils flared. “You’d let me walk out? After you just asked me tosleepwith you?”
“I don’t own you, and you don’toweme a thing.” Now felt like the exactwrongtime to backtrack, but what else could I do?
She searched my face, maybe looking for something reckless orhungry. Maybe even searching for anger. But what she found instead was restraint, stretched thin. After several painstaking seconds, she finally broke the uncomfortable silence between us. “I don't think,” she said slowly,finally, “this is just in your system.”
My mouth curved, just slightly. “No,” I admitted, pushing out a slow stream of air. Relief washed over me. “I didn’t think it was.”
Another beat. Then she stepped closer once more. Not touching. Notyet. “Okay,” she said. And that single word landed like a match struck in the dark.
I closed my eyes for half a second, just long enough to steady myself. “Okay,” I echoed.
And for the first time all day, the noise in my head went quiet. My hand came up first, slowly, fingers brushing her jaw like I were still deciding whether this wasreal. Anya leaned into the touch without thinking, breath catching, and that was all the permission I needed.
The first kiss was brief. Controlled. A test.
Then it wasn't.
I swore under my breath as I broke it, forehead dropping to hers, my grip tightening just enough to betray myself. “Fuck,” I murmured, the word escaping me.
Her hands were already on my chest, anchoring me. Feeling the way my heart was pounding as hard as hers. “This is aterribleidea,” she whispered.
“Yes,” I said immediately. No denial. No hesitation. “That's why it has to stop right now.” But I kissed her again, anyway. Shorter this time. Hotter. Like I was trying to memorize the feeling and erase it at the same time.
Her lips crashed against mine when I tried to pull away, her fingers curling into my shirt, daring me to move. She tasted like cheap chapstick and some sort of energy drink I didn't care to spend anymore time focusing on.
It took all of my self-control not to moan into her mouth as hertongue teased my lower lip. All of my self-control not to back her into the wall of the room and have herrightthere. Instead, my hands slid up her arms, tracing the soft skin under her sleeves, feeling the goosebumps rise as I pulled her closer. Anya's breath hitched, her mouth opening wider, inviting me in deeper.
I couldn't resist — I swept my tongue against hers, tasting the heat of her, the urgency building like a fire I knew would burn us both. Her fingers loosened on my shirt, wandering up to my neck, nails lightly scraping the back of my scalp, sending shivers down my spine. The kiss turned fierce, lips bruising, breaths mingling in short, desperate gasps. Every slide of her tongue against mine made my pulse race harder, my body aching to press against hers without crossing that line.
When we finally broke apart, her eyes locked on mine, dark and wanting; her lips swollen and red. My hands lingered on her shoulders, thumbs brushing the curve of her collarbone, as if letting go would make this moment vanish forever.
ButAnyawasn't done. Her hand shot up, fingers tangling in my hair, yanking me back down for one last, quick peck — soft lips pressing firm against mine, a spark that lingered just long enough to reignite the ache before she let go.
But I’d left the door unlocked.
And even if this was a one-time thing, she deserved better.
When I pulled back, I did it decisively, hands dropping, space reappearing between us like a snapped elastic band.
“One time,” I said hoarsely. “But not like this. Not here.”
Her lips were swollen. Her eyes dark. She nodded once, sharp and breathless. “Okay,” she said again.
I opened the door for her and stood aside, professionalism snapping back into place with brutal effort. As she walked past me, our shoulders brushed.
It was nothing.
And yet… it was everything.
And when the door closed behind her, I pressed my palm flat to the counter and stared at the wall, pulse racing, jaw tight, already knowing one thing with terrifying clarity:
There was no way this was going to stay brief.
