Chapter 172: 173 | Here We Are
"What other matter?"
"Don’t play stupid. It doesn’t suit you."
She walked toward me. Each step deliberate. Her grey eyes locked on mine with an intensity that reminded me why I found her so interesting in the first place.
"You said this wasn’t going to be a regular thing," I reminded her.
"I said it was a one-time occurrence."
"And?"
"And I’m revising my assessment based on new data."
She stopped directly in front of my chair. Close enough that I could smell her shampoo—something floral layered over something sharper that probably cost more per bottle than most people’s monthly rent. The proximity was deliberate. Everything about this girl was deliberate.
"Noel—"
"Don’t." One hand came up, palm out, the gesture somehow both defensive and commanding. "I’ve thought about this. Extensively. I’ve run the scenarios, calculated the risks, weighed the potential outcomes against the probable costs. I’ve analyzed the data from multiple angles."
"You made a spreadsheet."
"I made several spreadsheets." No hesitation. No embarrassment. Just flat acknowledgment delivered with the same tone she’d use to discuss homework.
"Of course you did."
"The conclusion I reached," she continued, ignoring my comment entirely, "is that my emotional response to you represents a variable I cannot eliminate through simple avoidance protocols. The more I try to stay away from you, the more mental processing power I waste thinking about you. The more I think about you, the more my academic and training performance metrics decline. It’s a negative feedback loop."
"So I’m a distraction," I said.
"A statistically significant one."
"And your solution is?"
"Controlled exposure therapy." Her fingers reached out and caught the knot of my tie, working it loose with practiced efficiency. "Regular scheduled contact to manage the intensity of the physiological and psychological response. Prevent it from interfering with more important operational priorities."
"You’re treating me like a medication."
"I’m treating you like a necessary compromise."
Her fingers worked the buttons of my shirt. One by one.
"The door’s not locked," I said.
"I locked it when you came in."
"Of course you did."
"Shut up."
She kissed me. Not gentle, not romantic. Aggressive and demanding and everything I’d come to expect from her. I grabbed her waist and pulled her onto my lap.
The chair groaned under our combined weight.
"This is a terrible idea," she muttered against my mouth.
"You’ve mentioned that."
"Multiple times."
"And yet here we are."
"Here we are."
Her skirt rode up as she settled more firmly against me. I could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her underwear. My hands found the buttons on her uniform jacket, working them open with less efficiency than she’d managed with my shirt.
"You’re bad at this," she said.
"I’m distracted."
"By what?"
"By the fact that you’re grinding on me while critiquing my fine motor skills."
She laughed. Actually laughed, a sound I’d heard maybe twice since meeting her. It transformed her face into something softer and warmer and infinitely more dangerous.
"I still hate you," she said.
"I know."
"This doesn’t change anything."
"I know that too."
"Good."
She pulled my shirt open the rest of the way and ran her hands across my chest. Her touch left trails of sensation that made it hard to think about anything except getting her out of that uniform as quickly as possible.
The drain stirred. I held it back, letting the moment be just physical for once.
"You’re holding back," she noticed.
"Trying to."
"Don’t."
"Noel—"
"I said don’t." She grabbed my face with both hands. "I want to feel it. All of it. I want to know what this is without you filtering it."
"If I open the drain all the way—"
"Then do it."
I opened it.
Her Essentia flooded into me like a dam breaking. Vanilla and frost and fire, just like before, but deeper now. More complex. Layers I hadn’t tasted the first time we were together. I felt her resistance crumbling, felt the walls she kept around herself dissolving under the force of the connection between us.
She gasped. Her whole body shuddered.
"Oh god."
"Still hate me?"
"More than ever."
Her hands were everywhere. My hands were everywhere. Clothes became obstacles to be removed and discarded and forgotten. The conference table became a surface for better leverage. The tactical diagrams on the whiteboard watched us like silent judges.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered that this was probably a terrible idea. Having sex with Noel in the same conference room where we’d already had sex once before, during academy hours when anyone could knock on the door and demand entry.
But Noel’s mouth was on my neck and her body was pressed against mine and the drain was cycling between us in waves of shared sensation that made rational thought feel like a distant concept.
"Rome."
"Yeah?"
"If you tell anyone about this—"
"I won’t."
"Anyone."
"Noel. I won’t."
She believed me. I could feel it through the connection. The trust she was extending despite every instinct telling her not to.
I made a decision.
I pulled back just enough to look at her face. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from kissing.
"What?" she demanded.
"Nothing. You’re just beautiful."
She blinked. Something complicated moved across her expression.
"Don’t say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because it makes this harder."
"Makes what harder?"
"Pretending I don’t care about you."
I kissed her again. Softer this time. The drain pulsed between us, cycling warmth and want and something that felt dangerously close to genuine affection.
When we finally came up for air, she was looking at me like I was a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve.
"You’re not what I expected," she said.
"What did you expect?"
"Someone easier to hate."
"Disappointed?"
"Confused." She traced a line down my chest. "You should be exactly what everyone says you are. A playboy coasting on family money. An arrogant waste of potential. The villain of someone else’s story."
"Maybe I am all those things."
"Maybe. But you’re also something else. Something I can’t figure out."
"Does that bother you?"
"Immensely."
I pulled her close again. Felt her melt against me despite her best efforts to stay rigid.
"Welcome to the club," I said. "I can’t figure me out either."
She laughed again. That same rare sound that made everything worth the complications.
We didn’t leave the conference room for another two hours.
