"Move."
The word came out rough.
Adrian didn't move, and he fucking smiled instead, just enough for me to know he'd heard the fracture in my voice and catalogued it like evidence.
"You say that," he murmured, "like you expect obedience."
"I expect space," I shot back.
"You're standing in mine."
I swallowed. He was too close, close enough that I could feel heat radiating off him, close enough that every inhale dragged his scent into my lungs whether I wanted it or not.
Citrus. Clean soap. Something darker beneath it. Something patient.
"I told you to step back," I said.
"You told me to move," he corrected calmly. "Different things."
My jaw clenched. "Don't play semantics with me."
"I'm not playing," he said. "I'm listening."
His gaze dragged over my face with infuriating slowness, lingering where my composure was weakest.
My throat. My mouth. My eyes.
"You're shaking," he added.
"I'm not." My voice shook.
"You are."
"Adrenaline," I snapped. "That's all."
He tilted his head. "Is that what you tell yourself when your body betrays you?"
"My body isn't—"
"Your pulse is visible," he interrupted quietly. "Right here."
He lifted his hand, not touching, not yetand hovered two inches from my throat.
I didn't move. Didn't breathe. "You feel that?" he asked softly.
"I feel you pushing fucking boundaries."
"No," he said. "You feel yourself losing control."
Anger flared, sharp and hot. "You don't get to diagnose me."
"I already have."
I shoved his chest, harder this time, and it was like hitting a wall, and he did not move an inch. His eyes darkened, not with anger, but interest.
"There it is," he said. "That frustration."
"Get off me," I hissed.
"I'm not touching you, Cap."
"You're crowding my space."
"You walked closer." His eyes flashed.
"That's bullshit."
He smiled faintly. "Is it?"
Silence stretched between us, thick and unbearable, and my hands curled into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms.
"You came here alone," he said finally. "After midnight."
"You are an asshole, Adrian Blackwood," I muttered through gritted teeth.
"You came because I asked."
"Are you done?" I huffed.
"No," he corrected. "I made it necessary."
I scoffed. "You think too highly of yourself."
"And yet," he said, stepping closer again, "here you are."
"Stop advancing," I asserted.
"Make me."
The challenge hit low and dangerous.
"You're crossing ethical lines." I pointed out.
"Ethics," he echoed. "You cling to them like armor."
"They exist for a reason."
"So do instincts," he replied. "You ignore yours."
"I'm ignoring nothing."
"You're ignoring everything."
His voice dropped. "Tell me, Captain, when was the last time someone stood this close to you, and you didn't shut them down immediately?"
I didn't answer, and he exhaled slowly. "That long, huh?"
"You don't know anything about my personal life."
"I know you don't let people in," he said. "I know you control rooms because you're terrified of losing them."
"That's projection."
"No," he said quietly. "That's recognition."
My chest tightened. "You're not special."
"I am to you."
The words hit harder than they should have.
"Don't flatter yourself."
"I'm not," he said. "I'm observing."
His hand lifted again, hovering near my jaw.
"Say stop," he murmured. "And I'll step back."
I opened my mouth, and nothing came out.
He smiled with certainty. "There it is," he said softly. "That hesitation."
My voice came out hoarse. "Fucking stop you bastard."
"You said the word," he replied. "Yet, you didn't mean it."
His fingers brushed the wall beside my head, close enough that my skin reacted as if he'd touched me, and my breath stuttered despite myself.
"You're reacting," he said. "Even now."
"I'm reacting to being cornered. Any normal human being in this space would"
"And yet," he said, leaning closer, "your feet haven't moved."
I hated that he was right. "This is inappropriate," I snapped.
"And you're standing in my space," he said evenly. "Titles don't change physics."
"I could end this deal."
"You won't."
"Try me."
He studied me for a long moment and then quietly, "You need what I have."
"And you need leverage," I shot back.
"I already have it."
"What leverage?"
He leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur meant only for me. "Me."
My breath caught. "You're insane."
"Possibly," he agreed. "But not wrong."
I tore my gaze away. "Sign the fucking contract."
He reached for the folder at last, fingers brushing mine just briefly as he took it.
"You're wound tight," he said as he skimmed the pages. "All discipline and no fucking release."
"That's none of your concern."
"Everything about you is my concern now," he said. "You made that choice when you walked back in."
"I walked in to do my job."
"You walked in because you wanted to see if you could withstand me."
I laughed harshly. "You're not that intimidating."
"Then why is your voice still shaking?"
"Because you're exhausting."
"And yet," he said, signing the last page with maddening calm, "you haven't asked to leave."
He slid the folder back across the table. "There," he said. "Official."
"Professionally," I said.
He looked at me like he didn't believe me for a second. "I'm leaving," I said, stepping back.
"No."
The word landed like a locked door, and His hand slammed against the wall beside me, not touching me, but close enough to make my whole body react. The sound cracked through the room.
"Don't," I warned.
"You don't like being told no, "He said quietly.
"I don't like being cornered."
"And yet," he murmured, leaning in just enough to steal my breath, "you keep putting yourself in corners."
"Why the fuck do you keep doing this?" I whispered.
" Because I can't help it," he responded, and his voice lowered, damn warm and seductive.
I forced myself to meet his eyes. "You are fucking psycho."
"No," he said softly. "But I bet you are excited to test the waters between us."
"That's not—"
"You want to know," he continued, "what happens when you stop fighting, how do you think things will be? I bet you are as curious as I am."
"I will never stop fighting." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
"Good," he said. "I'd be disappointed if you did."
He stepped back at last, granting me space that felt almost cruel after the pressure.
"I'll let you go," he said calmly. "For now."
I didn't thank him.
"I want you thinking about this," he added. "Wondering if you should've pushed harder. Or stayed longer."
"Get help," I muttered.
"Eventually," he said lightly.
"Fuck you," I growled.
" That is a promise I intend to keep." His eyes flashed, and a smirk rose on his lips.