Archive of Our Own

It starts out as Caleb expects, with the same old spiel. The interrogator sits at a table across from him, and the questions come: Who do you work for? What are they after?

Caleb knows the drill. He's been here before. He keeps his mouth shut and his eyes trained on the mirrored window that runs the length of the wall, staring down the silent observers.

He waits until his interrogator grows impatient. It doesn't take long.

"Listen here, you little shit," the interrogator says, the words bursting forth. "I've got a whole list of crimes to pin on you and if you don't start talking—"

Then the interrogator's commlink buzzes, and he takes it out and glances at the screen.

Caleb knows immediately that something is wrong. The interrogator goes still, then pales, the color leaching from his face.

"I'll be back," he says, and leaves.

And Caleb sits in the interrogation room, waiting, until the door swings open again and a woman enters. The first thing Caleb notices, before the tailored uniform and the badge pinned to her chest, is that she's beautiful.

Not just pretty. Beautiful in a way that commands attention. She's small, and the cut of her black uniform emphasizes the slender lines of her body. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, exposing the clean, sharp features of her face. Her gaze is direct and steady, and her mouth is a perfect bow.

She pulls a chair out and sits down. Then she just looks at him.

Her hands are clasped on the table, her fingers laced. They are slim and delicate, tipped with neat nails. He imagines them wrapped around a gun, or a throat, and he thinks they would look at home doing either.

"How did you get in here?" she asks.

Caleb lifts his gaze from her hands. She is still watching him, those eyes of hers dark and intent. He likes the sound of her voice.

"I flew," he says.

A flicker of emotion in her eyes.

"We can see that," she replies. "I meant, how did you get through security? The cameras and scanners didn't pick up anything."

Caleb shrugs.

"Maybe you need better tech."

Her eyes narrow.

"It is in your best interests to cooperate." There's a slight bite to her tone, the first hint of an edge.

"What are you going to do, hurt me?" he asks, spreading his arms and leaning back. He smiles at her, cocky. He can feel the cameras on him, recording every word. "You don't strike me as the type."

She tilts her head.

"You think you know me, do you?" Something in her eyes glitters. Dangerous. Predatory. Caleb's breath catches. "That is a mistake. I will get what I want from you, and if it requires a more... personal approach, then so be it."

She gestures at the mirror, and a moment later, two soldiers comes in.

"Take him to one of the interrogation rooms." She glances at Caleb. "I'll be along shortly."

The soldier grabs him roughly by the arm, and Caleb winks at her before he's hauled off.

He is brought to a small room, the walls white and blank. The only piece of furniture is a metal table, bolted to the floor.

Caleb is strapped down to the chair and left there.

He waits. He can be patient. He is good at waiting.

He studies the room.

There's no air vent. The chair and table are made of metal. The room is small. He could break a chair, smash it against the wall, try to use one of the legs to jimmy the door open. It might work, if the door isn't reinforced.

It probably is.

It would be easier to break his thumbs and slip his cuffs. That would be quicker, but—

The door swings open.

It's the woman again. She closes the door behind her and leans against it. Her posture is casual, but her expression is focused. She looks at him as if he is a problem to be solved.

He likes the idea of that. Of being her puzzle. Maybe she can crack him open and look inside. See if there's anything there worth knowing.

"Well, this is cozy," he says, and grins at her. "What's next, are you going to pull my fingernails out? Waterboarding?"

She walks to the table, the soles of her boots clicking on the tiled floor. Her steps are unhurried.

"I prefer less... dramatic methods."

She pulls out a small remote and points it at him.

He feels the cuffs around his wrists tighten. Then a jolt of electricity runs through him, and he convulses in his chair. Pain sparks along his nerve endings, and he bites back a gasp.

It's over almost as soon as it starts.

"As I said," the woman continues. She sets the remote down on the table and watches him, her expression unreadable. "I prefer less dramatic methods."

"Yeah," he manages, once he gets his breath back. "I can tell."

She smiles. Her teeth are very white, her canines sharp. It's not a friendly expression, more a baring of teeth, a feral gesture.

"So," she says, "I'm going to ask you some questions. You are going to answer them. If I feel like you are being truthful, we will move on. If I think you are lying, or omitting details..."

She holds up the remote, and he tenses instinctively. He wonders what the highest setting feels like. Probably not good.

"Let's start with the basics. Name?"

He hesitates.

"You have nothing to gain by lying," she says. "The sooner you tell me the truth, the sooner we can get through this."

He meets her gaze. There's something in her eyes, a hint of interest. A spark of curiosity.

"Caleb," he says, finally.

"Caleb." She rolls his name around on her tongue, tasting it. "Last name?"

He keeps his mouth shut. It's one thing to tell her his name, but his last name would give too much away. His past. His connections.

Her hand tightens on the remote.

"Last chance."

"I like a little pain," he says, and smirks at her.

She presses a button.

He's prepared for the jolt this time, but it doesn't make it any easier. His body convulses, his muscles jerking. He bites the inside of his cheek, swallowing a gasp.

"You can end this at any time," she says, once it's done. "All you have to do is tell me what I want to know."

Caleb is breathing hard.

"I can go all day."

She sighs, a soft exhalation.

"You are not making this easy."

She studies him, her head tilted. He notices a faint line between her brows. It makes her look softer, almost vulnerable. Human. For a moment, he imagines touching his finger to the space between her eyebrows, smoothing away her frown. It would probably earn him a black eye. Or worse.

"Caleb," she says, her voice low and intense, and his name sounds like a command, a caress. "Why did you break into the facility?"

He doesn't answer.

Another sigh. She sits down in the chair across from him.

"Look," she says, "I don't want to have to do this. It's not personal."

"It feels personal," Caleb says.

"Oh, I assure you, it's not."

She's leaning forward now, her palms flat against the table, her gaze direct and piercing.

"Here's the thing. I have a job to do, and that means keeping this facility secure. But I also have a reputation to uphold, and it doesn't reflect well on me if some... intruder" —Caleb doesn't think intruder is the word she wants to use, but she's too professional to call him a piece of shit— "breaks into my facility without tripping a single alarm."

Caleb raises his eyebrows.

"So you're mad because I made you look bad?"

Her mouth twists into a scowl. Caleb tries not to think about how attractive she looks, glaring at him. Something about the way her brow furrows, the line of her jaw, the thin press of her lips. He's not sure if he wants to smooth away her anger or stoke it.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" she asks, each word a knife-edge. "Is this a joke to you?"

"Not at all."

He could probably disarm her, he thinks. If she came within reach. He could slip his cuffs, grab her. Pin her. It would be difficult, and she would fight him. It would be a matter of who got lucky. He could snap her neck. Break her arm. He could take her gun.

He could kiss her.

The thought is sudden and shocking. He can almost imagine it, the heat of her mouth, the press of her body against his.

"Are you listening to me?" she snaps, and he blinks.

"Yes," he lies.

"Why did you break in?" she asks. "Who do you work for? What are they after?"

Caleb keeps his mouth shut.

"Tell me!" Her palm hits the table. "Answer the question!"

He can see the pulse at her throat, quick and fluttering. The color is high in her cheeks.

Then she picks up the remote and hits the button.

Caleb gasps. Pain runs through him, bright and searing. He arches his back, his muscles seizing. His breath rasps in his throat, and for a moment, there is nothing but the pain, the crackling of his nerves, the jagged spike of agony.

And then it's gone.

He's breathing hard. Sweat slicks his skin. He tastes blood on his tongue, the hot, sharp tang of iron.

His shoulders ache, the joints straining from the pressure. He can feel his heart beating in his chest, rabbit-quick.

He forces himself to meet her eyes.

"If you want something," he says, "you should ask nicely."

She's breathing hard, too. She looks angry, and flushed, and there's something else in her eyes, some darker, more dangerous emotion.

"How many times do I have to ask before you answer?" she says.

"Maybe I just need a little encouragement," he replies, and licks his lips. "Maybe I like it when you punish me."

She stares at him. Then she laughs, the sound startled out of her.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I've got a lot of issues," Caleb says, grinning. "My parents never hugged me enough as a child."

"Clearly."

"And I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot," Caleb adds. "We could start over. Get to know each other."

She shakes her head, incredulous. There's a strand of hair coming loose from her ponytail. It brushes against her cheek. Caleb thinks about reaching out and tucking it behind her ear. Not that he could, bound as he is.

"I am trying," she says, enunciating each word carefully, "to do my job. I have a lot riding on this, and I am not going to let some arrogant, self-absorbed asshole mess it up for me."

She's angry, he realizes. He likes seeing her like this, her composure cracking. He wonders how much further he can push her.

"You know," he says, "there are better ways to get what you want."

"Are there?" She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Such as?"

"Well." He shrugs. "I react better to positive reinforcement. Food. Praise. Kind words. Physical affection."

Her eyes narrow.

"This is funny to you, isn't it? Do you enjoy wasting my time?"

"A little," he admits.

"Well, I'm glad one of us is having fun."

She studies him, her eyes cold. He can feel her assessing him, evaluating. Trying to figure him out.

"What did they promise you?" she asks. "Money? Power?"

He doesn't answer.

She pushes her chair back and stands up, circling around him. Her fingers rest on his shoulder, feather-light, and her touch sends a jolt through him.

"You can end this at any time," she tells him, bending so her lips are close to his ear. Her breath is warm. He can smell the light, citrusy scent of her shampoo. "Just tell me what I want to know. I will guarantee your safety."

She's standing behind him, just out of reach. He can't see her, but he can feel her, the weight of her gaze, the warmth of her presence.

"I am a reasonable person," she continues. "And I would rather not have to resort to harsher measures. So why don't we stop wasting each other's time and save us both a headache, hmm?"

Her voice is gentle, coaxing, and Caleb wonders if she's ever had to interrogate someone before. If he's her first. The thought gives him a strange thrill.

"What's your name?" he asks.

"Excuse me?"

"Your name."

"I don't see how that's relevant," she says, but there's a hesitation in her tone, a hitch in her breath.

"Well," Caleb says, "I'd like to know what to call you. Since you won't tell me your name, I'll have to give you a nickname."

"Absolutely not."

"Let's see..." He pauses. "Pip-squeak."

"That's the best you can come up with?"

"You're short." Caleb can hear her inhale, a sharp intake of breath. "Sorry, not tall. Compact. Petite. Diminutive."

Her hands settle on his shoulders, and his skin prickles beneath the touch. Her grip is strong, fingers digging into his muscles. She leans down until her mouth is next to his ear.

"You are pushing your luck," she whispers, her breath a warm puff against his skin.

"It's worked out well for me so far."

She makes a sound, an aborted laugh, and Caleb feels something unclench inside him. She's not invulnerable, he thinks. Not as untouchable as she'd like him to believe.

"What are you getting out of this?" she asks.

"You mean aside from the obvious pleasure of your company?"

"Please."

"What can I say," Caleb says. "I enjoy the chase."

"Fine," she snaps.

She releases his shoulders, and a moment later, her fingers curl around the base of his throat. His pulse jumps, and her thumb strokes the side of his neck. Caleb sucks in a breath.

"If that's the way you want to play this," she says.

He tilts his head back, meeting her gaze. She's close enough that he can see the individual lashes framing her eyes. Close enough to kiss. He wonders if she would taste the way she smells, her mouth clean and citrus-sweet.

She tightens her grip on his throat.

"You seem to be under the mistaken impression that this is a game," she says, her voice cold. "Let me disabuse you of that notion. You broke into my facility, and I can make this very unpleasant for you. All I want is some answers. After that, we can go our separate ways."

"Sounds promising," Caleb says, and grins.

He sees her eyes widen, and then she's gripping his hair, jerking his head back. He winces at the sting.

"I have been patient with you so far," she says. Her voice is soft, and it makes him shiver. "But my patience is not infinite. If you continue to push me, I will have no choice but to break you."

Her fingers tighten, pulling on his scalp, and a small, desperate sound escapes him. Heat floods his face, and he can feel the tips of his ears burning. Fuck, he thinks, mortified.

She smiles, slow and predatory.

"That's interesting," she says.

His breath catches. He feels exposed, vulnerable, and he knows she can see it, that she's watching him with those dark, unreadable eyes of hers.

"So." Her grip loosens. Her fingers slide through his hair, a soft caress, and he tries not to lean into her touch. "Are you ready to tell me the truth?"

"Depends," he says.

Her hand is resting on his head, her palm warm against his scalp. It would be so easy for her to pull his hair again. He swallows, his throat dry.

"On what?" she asks.

"On whether or not I get a reward."

"Reward?" Her eyebrows lift.

"Sure." He tries to shrug, and his shoulders strain against the cuffs. "Isn't that how these things work? Good behavior gets rewarded."

She tilts her head, studying him. He can't quite read her expression. Curiosity, maybe. Amusement. A hint of anger.

"What do you have in mind?" she asks.

Caleb pauses, pretending to think about it. He's always been good at reading people, knowing what they want. And he can tell, from the way she's looking at him, that she's curious. Intrigued. Maybe even a little turned on.

"Kiss me," he says.

He watches her, and for a moment, she looks stunned. Surprised. Then her expression closes off, her eyes turning hard.

"You must think I'm stupid."

"Not at all," Caleb says. "I think you're a smart, competent, highly capable woman. Who probably hasn't been kissed in a while. At least, not by anyone who knew what they were doing."

"And you know what you're doing?" She snorts.

"I've been told so."

"By who, your mirror?"

"Among others."

Her grip on his hair tightens briefly. It's not painful, but it's enough to make him catch his breath.

"And you really think a kiss is worth the trouble you're causing me?"

Caleb hesitates, pretending to think.

"No," he admits. "But you're running out of options. I've been trained to withstand torture. You won't get anything from me unless I want you to. And right now, what I want is a kiss. And if you do kiss me, maybe I'll let something slip. Who knows? Stranger things have happened."

Her grip on his hair loosens, her palm sliding down the back of his neck. Caleb feels a shiver run through him.

"And what if I refuse?" she asks.

"Then I guess we're at an impasse."

She looks at him, and he can see the indecision in her eyes. He knows he's taking a risk, pushing her too far, but there's a part of him that wants to see how far he can go. What she'll do.

"Fine." She releases him and takes a step back. "Kill the cameras."

There's a pause, then a voice speaks from a hidden speaker.

"Ma'am?"

"Kill the cameras," she repeats, a little more forcefully.

"But the protocol states—"

"The protocol is superseded by my authority," she interrupts, "and I am ordering you to kill the cameras."

Another pause.

"Yes, ma'am."

The red lights on the security cameras blink off.

"What now?" Caleb asks.

She steps forward, her fingers reaching for his chin. Her grip is gentle, but firm. She tilts his head back, her eyes locking on his.

"Open your mouth."

He obeys, and her tongue slides into his mouth, hot and insistent. The kiss is rough, hungry, and he feels a surge of desire run through him.

"What's your name?" she murmurs, her lips moving against his.

"Caleb Xia."

"Good boy," she whispers, and he shivers.

Her teeth nip his lower lip, and then her mouth is on his again, her tongue tracing the edge of his teeth. He groans, and he can feel her smile.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she says.

"Can you blame me?" Caleb's breathing hard, his heart pounding. He's acutely aware of the pressure of her hand on his cheek, the way her body is pressed against his.

She pulls away, and he misses the warmth of her mouth, the closeness.

"No," she says.

He's half-hard already, and the way she's looking at him—dark-eyed, her lips slightly parted—isn't helping.

"Tell me the truth." Her gaze drops to his mouth. "Why did you break in?"

He keeps his mouth shut.

"You said you'd answer the questions if I kissed you."

"You asked what my name was," Caleb says. "I answered. One kiss, one question."

She stares at him, frustration written clearly across her face. For a moment, Caleb thinks she might slap him. Then she sighs, running a hand through her hair. The ponytail has started to come loose, stray strands framing her face. She looks softer, less controlled, and Caleb feels an unexpected tug of tenderness.

"You are really fucking annoying, you know that?"

"You're not the first person to tell me that."

She laughs, a short, harsh sound.

"I don't suppose I'll be the last."

She leans forward, pressing her lips against his. Caleb lets his eyes flutter shut, his breath catching in his throat. She's warm, her mouth soft. He can smell the faint, floral scent of her shampoo, the tang of sweat and soap on her skin. He feels her hand cupping his cheek, her fingers trailing along his jaw.

She pulls back, just enough to speak, her breath fanning across his lips.

"What did they promise you?" she asks, her voice a whisper.

"Nothing," he says. "I volunteered."

She's quiet, her eyes searching his.

"Why?"

Caleb keeps his mouth shut.

With a growl of frustration, she lunges forward and kisses him, harder this time. There's a sense of urgency, an undercurrent of desperation, and Caleb finds himself responding. He leans into her, his lips parting.

Her tongue slips into his mouth, and he can taste her, a hint of citrus.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, tugging, and Caleb moans. His hands clench, the cuffs digging into his wrists.

He wants to touch her, to feel her skin beneath his fingertips. To run his hands over her body, explore the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts. To see her laid bare, exposed and vulnerable.

His cock twitches.

She breaks the kiss, panting, her breath warm against his lips.

"Why?" she asks again.

"I'm a good pilot." Caleb's voice is hoarse. It takes an effort to keep his breathing steady. "I was the only one who could do it."

She looks at him, and her eyes are dark, fathomless.

"What did you expect to find here?" she asks.

"You're forgetting the rules." Caleb grins, despite the growing strain in his pants. "One kiss, one question."

She huffs, exasperated, but her fingers stroke his hair. It's an unexpectedly tender gesture, one she doesn't seem to realize she's making. It makes him wonder if this is how she is with her lovers, gentle and considerate beneath her stern demeanor.

"You are a frustrating man."

"I try."

She shakes her head, and her fingers trail down the side of his neck. Caleb sucks in a breath.

"I don't understand you," she says, her voice a low murmur.

"Most people don't."

Her thumb strokes his jaw. Her touch is light, almost hesitant. Caleb is surprised by the gesture, and something inside him unravels.

He turns his head, pressing a kiss against her palm.

"Do you ever take anything seriously?" she asks.

"Sometimes."

The air between them is heavy, electric. Caleb can feel his pulse racing, his heart pounding in his chest. He can see the quick rise and fall of her chest, the way her pupils are dilated, her lips parted. There's a mix of anger and desire on her face, and Caleb realizes that she wants him, even as much as she hates him.

She moves slowly, deliberately, her hands resting on his shoulders. Then she swings her leg over him, straddling his lap.

Her weight settles onto him, and he's suddenly aware of the warmth of her body, the press of her thighs against his.

Her hands cup his cheeks, tilting his face up, and her lips brush against his. It's a whisper of a kiss, barely more than a tease, and Caleb finds himself leaning forward, trying to deepen the contact.

She pulls back, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Ask me for it," she murmurs.

Caleb swallows, his mouth dry. His body aches, the pressure and heat from hers building the need in him until it's almost unbearable.

"Please," he says.

Her smirk widens, and she leans down to kiss him.

Her mouth is hot and insistent, and he can taste the desperation, the hunger. She kisses him like a woman starved, her tongue exploring his mouth, her hands clutching his hair. He moans into her mouth, and she rocks against him, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure through him.

His hips jerk, and he can feel the growing pressure in his pants. He's painfully hard, and he knows she can feel it too, the way she's grinding against him.

She pulls back, panting, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed. Her hair is messy, coming loose from her ponytail, and Caleb has the urge to run his fingers through it.

"Take the cuffs off," he says.

"No."

"I won't try anything."

"No."

He groans. "Then can you at least... help me with this?"

His eyes drop to his lap. She follows his gaze, and he sees the way her lips part, her eyes widening.

"What, this?" She rocks against him, her weight shifting on his lap, and he grits his teeth, fighting the urge to thrust up against her.

"Fuck," he breathes.

She smiles.

"You like that?"

"Obviously."

"Good." She rolls her hips, and he gasps.

He can feel the heat and pressure of her body, even through the layers of clothing between them. It's maddening, a constant, aching tension. He's painfully hard, his cock straining against the confines of his pants, and the friction is almost too much.

She's watching him, her eyes dark with desire, and he knows that she's getting off on this, on seeing him desperate and needy.

Her hands slide down his chest, and she leans in, her lips brushing against his ear.

"You were right," she murmurs. "You catch more flies with honey."

She kisses him, and Caleb responds eagerly, his mouth opening under hers. Her tongue explores his mouth, teasing and playful, and he groans, wanting more.

She breaks the kiss, her lips trailing along his jaw, down his neck. She bites him, hard, and Caleb yelps.

"Careful with the merchandise," he says.

She ignores him, sucking on the bite, her tongue swirling over his skin.

Caleb's mind goes blank, the sensation overwhelming him. He's breathing hard, his cock throbbing, and all he can focus on is the feel of her lips on his skin.

She pulls back, and Caleb makes a sound of protest, trying to follow her. She pushes him back, her hand pressing against his chest.

"No," she says, and there's a warning in her tone.

Caleb sags against the chair, frustrated and aching.

"Please," he says.

She looks at him, her eyes searching his face. She reaches up and cups his cheek, her thumb stroking his jaw.

"You're a lot more obedient when you want something," she says.

"Yeah, well." His lips curve. "I'm a simple man with simple needs."

"And what exactly are your needs?"

"Right now? I need you to uncuff me so I can touch you."

"Not happening."

He gives her an injured look.

"I thought we were making progress."

"I'm not an idiot," she says, rolling her eyes. "I know how you operate."

"How do I operate?"

"You distract people," she says, poking him in the chest. "You flirt, and you charm, and you get under their skin. And then, once you've got them wrapped around your finger, that's when you strike."

Caleb blinks, taken aback.

"That's—" He laughs. "I mean, yeah, that's accurate, but I'm not planning to hurt you. Not unless you want me to, anyway."

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and she makes a noise of disgust, her lip curling.

"You are revolting," she says.

"You can punish me if you want," he offers, grinning. "Pull my hair. Slap my ass. Call me names. I'm flexible."

"And an idiot."

"You said that already."

She scowls. "Because it bears repeating. I can't believe I let myself get distracted by your..."

"My charms? My irresistible good looks?"

"Your mouth, among other things."

"I have a talented mouth."

"You talk a lot."

She moves, shifting her weight. Caleb inhales sharply, the pressure of her body nearly unbearable. He can't stop his hips from jerking up, desperate for friction.

She laughs.

"Someone's eager," she teases, her hand trailing down his chest.

He sucks in a breath, anticipation coiling in his belly. He can feel his pulse racing, his cock throbbing.

"Yeah, well, someone's been keeping me waiting."

Her lips quirk, and he sees the hint of amusement in her eyes.

"And who's fault is that?" she asks.

He shrugs.

"Mine," he admits, flashing her a grin. "I'm a bad, bad boy."

"You're certainly something." She leans in, her lips brushing against his. It's not quite a kiss, and Caleb finds himself chasing her, straining forward. She pulls back, just out of reach.

"Come on," he says, a whine in his voice.

She grins.

"Patience is a virtue," she says, and it sounds like a quote.

"Whoever told you that was a liar."

Or never had to sit cuffed to a chair while a hot woman grinds her ass on his crotch, he thinks. Not that he'd trade his current situation for anything, but...

Well.

He could definitely use a little less clothing between them.

"Do you ever stop talking?" she asks.

"If there's something else you'd rather have me do with my mouth, I'm happy to oblige."

Her lips twitch.

She runs a hand through her hair, pulling the elastic out and letting the strands spill over her shoulders. She looks less severe with her hair down, the sharp edges of her features softened. Caleb makes a low, appreciative noise.

"What?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"You look good with your hair down."

She scoffs, but he can see the flush that colors her cheeks.

"Shut up," she mutters.

"Make me."

She grabs his chin, her grip firm, and his lips part. She kisses him, and he feels the pressure of her body as she leans into him, her weight settling onto his lap.

He groans into her mouth, and her fingers dig into his jaw. Caleb notices, with a hint of satisfaction, that she is not asking him questions anymore. She is not demanding answers or making demands. She is simply kissing him because she wants to. Because she is hungry for him, and he is happy to be devoured.

He shifts beneath her, his hands straining against the cuffs, and the cold steel bites into his wrists. The sensation sends a shiver through him, a mix of pain and pleasure.

Her teeth tug at his lower lip, and then she is pulling away, breathing hard.

"Fuck," she whispers, her forehead resting against his.

He nods, unable to form words.

Her fingers trace the curve of his jaw, the line of his throat. They trail over his collarbones, mapping the angles and planes of his body. Her touch is light, feather-soft, and it leaves a trail of fire in its wake.

"If you keep doing that," Caleb says, his voice hoarse, "this is going to be over embarrassingly quickly."

She laughs, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. It's a sweet gesture, and the contrast between it and the rest of their encounter makes his head spin. She's unpredictable, mercurial, and it keeps him on his toes.

"Maybe that's the plan," she says, her lips brushing against his ear.

He closes his eyes, swallowing hard. The ache inside him is nearly unbearable, the need for release coiled tight in his gut. He's wound up, his body strung taut, and every touch is a fresh torment.

Getting electrocuted might've been easier, he thinks, wry. Although nowhere near as enjoyable.

"I think I'm starting to see the appeal," he says, forcing a smile.

"Hmm?"

"Of being a fly."

She laughs, and he feels the puff of air against his skin.

"Is that so?"

"Mmhmm."

She pulls back, studying him. There's a wicked gleam in her eye, and Caleb braces himself.

"You sure about that?"

"What do you—?"

She reaches between them, her fingers trailing over his stomach, and his breath catches. She traces the outline of his cock, teasing, and his hips jerk.

"Fuck," he hisses.

"Language." Her tone is admonishing, but he can hear the hint of amusement in her voice.

"Just kill me now."

"Don't tempt me."

He laughs, a short, sharp sound.

Her hand cups him through his pants, and his laughter fades. A shudder runs through him, his cock swelling under her touch. He's already rock-hard, aching for release, and her hand on him is enough to send waves of pleasure through him.

"God," he groans, his head falling back. "I'm going to fucking come in my pants if you keep doing that."

"That would be a shame," she murmurs, her lips brushing against his throat.

He lets out a ragged breath, his hips straining against the cuffs. He's trapped, utterly helpless, and the feeling is as exhilarating as it is frustrating. He wants to touch her, to run his hands over her body, but he's bound and at her mercy.

Her fingers toy with the waistband of his pants, tugging them down, and Caleb hisses as the cold air hits his skin.

"Behave," she says, her voice a warning.

He grunts, biting his lip.

Her hand closes around his cock, and he moans, his eyes fluttering shut. Her thumb brushes over the head, spreading the bead of precum gathered there, and he can't stop himself from thrusting into her fist.

"Easy," she murmurs, her fingers wrapping around his shaft.

"Please," he whispers, his voice ragged. "I'm going to die if you don't touch me."

"We wouldn't want that."

She begins stroking him, her grip firm and steady. The pleasure is white-hot, and he buries his face in the crook of her neck, gasping. Her hand tightens around his cock, twisting on the upstroke, and he moans, his hips bucking. Every movement sends a jolt of pleasure through him, the tension inside him winding tighter.

"You're so hard," she murmurs, her voice a low purr.

"Your fault." Caleb manages a ragged laugh. "You did this to me."

"Oh, I'm aware."

She picks up the pace, her hand moving faster, and he cries out, his fingers digging into the chair. He's panting, his chest heaving, and his hips thrust helplessly. His whole body is taut, his muscles straining, and he can feel the climax building inside him, a pressure ready to burst.

Before he can tip over the edge, she stops, her hand tightening around the base of his cock.

"Not yet."

Caleb chokes back a frustrated sob, his body trembling.

"Why?"

"It'd be hard to explain why you're covered in your own cum," she says.

He makes a sound, part whimper, part groan.

"Let me come in your mouth," he pleads, shameless. "I promise I'll be quick."

She leans back, and her eyes roam over him. He wonders what she sees: a pathetic, desperate man, begging her for mercy.

"Hmm." Her finger traces his lower lip. "What if I said no?"

"I'll die."

"Such drama."

"I'm serious." He nips at her finger, drawing a soft gasp from her. "You're killing me, here. I'll expire right here, in this chair, and then you'll have to explain it to everyone."

Her lips curve upward into a faint smile, and Caleb feels a flutter in his chest. She's gorgeous when she smiles, her face softening, the hard edges melting away.

"That would be inconvenient," she agrees.

"See?" He flashes her a grin, all teeth and bravado. "Think of the paperwork."

She laughs.

"You have a point." She leans in, her breath warm against his skin. "But I don't remember agreeing to your request."

He groans, frustrated.

"Please."

She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Say it again."

"Please." He leans into her, the word a low moan. "Please suck me off."

She pulls back, and for a moment, Caleb is certain that she's going to leave him, just as desperate and needy as before.

Instead, she sinks to her knees, her hands resting on his thighs.

"Fuck." He can't look away, transfixed by the sight of her. She's on her knees for him, a position of submission, but there's no hesitation or reluctance in her. If anything, there's a note of smug triumph, as if she's the one in control.

And she is.

She holds him in the palm of her hand, and he would do anything she asked.

Her hand wraps around the base of his cock, and she takes him into her mouth. The wet heat of her envelops him, and he lets out a strangled cry, his hips jerking. She hums, the vibration sending a shiver through him.

"Holy shit," he breathes.

Her eyes flick up to meet his, and there's a gleam of amusement in them. Her tongue swirls over the head of his cock, and his eyes flutter closed, a groan escaping him.

His fingers curl, his nails biting into his palms, and he feels the cuffs cut into his wrists. The pain only adds to the pleasure, a sharp edge that sends a thrill through him.

Her mouth is a searing heat, and he thrusts shallowly, the need for release overwhelming him. She takes him deeper, swallowing around him, drawing another groan from him. She's skilled, her tongue working its magic, and he can't help but wonder who else she's done this to. Who else has felt the exquisite torture of her mouth? The thought makes something dark and possessive coil inside him, and he pushes it aside.

Right now, he just wants to lose himself in the sensation. In the feel of her lips wrapped around his cock, the suction of her mouth, the bobbing of her head as she works him.

"I'm going to come," he gasps, his voice ragged. "Oh, fuck."

The pleasure crests, and he comes undone, his orgasm crashing over him like a wave. His hips jerk, his back arching, and his vision goes white.

When he finally comes back to himself, she's wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stands, her hands smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt.

"There," she says. "Satisfied?"

He manages a nod, too drained to speak.

She reaches up and strokes his cheek, a surprisingly tender gesture. Caleb closes his eyes, leaning into the touch like a needy pet. She sighs, her fingers brushing through his hair.

"Look at you," she says. "Such a mess."

"Who's fault is that?"

"Yours."

"Fair."

His head is still spinning, his pulse racing, and his body is boneless, limp. It's a delicious exhaustion, a release of everything pent up inside him. He feels like he's floating, the world fading away.

There's a rustle of clothing, and then her fingers are working the cuffs.

"Hey, what are you—?"

"Quiet."

He is quiet, his tongue a weight in his mouth. His wrists are throbbing, the cuffs leaving deep red welts, but the pain is dull, distant.

She's standing in front of him, close enough that he can see the rise and fall of her chest.

Her hand rests on the side of his face, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw.

"You will take my gun," she says, her voice a low whisper, "and you will knock me unconscious before escaping."

"What?"

"It's the only way you'll make it out of here. You'll have the advantage, and you'll use it."

"No."

"You have to."

"I'm not hitting you."

She gives him an impatient look.

"Don't be difficult. If you don't—"

Caleb grabs her, his fingers tangling in her hair. He pulls her down and kisses her, his lips crashing against hers. She stiffens, resisting, and he bites her lower lip. She moans, a low sound, and he swallows it, his tongue sliding into her mouth. She tastes like him, a reminder of what they've just done, and he feels a surge of possessiveness.

"I won't do it," he murmurs, his lips brushing against hers. "I won't hurt you."

"You have to." Her voice is strained, her breathing ragged. "It's the only way."

"No."

He presses her against the table, his hands on her hips, the metal pressing into her skin.

"Stop being so stubborn." She pushes him away, but he doesn't budge. "I'm giving you a chance to get out of here. To escape."

"I don't need your help," he says, leaning down, nipping at her neck. She sucks in a breath, her eyes fluttering shut.

"What do you intend to do, then?" She sounds irritated, and he can't help but smirk. Even when she's mad, she's gorgeous. "Wait here until someone else decides what happens to you?"

He ignores the question, his hand sliding up her thigh. He's always liked the practicality of pencil skirts. Easy access. And she looks amazing in them, all legs and perfect curves.

She slaps his hand away, and his gaze snaps up to hers, a scowl tugging at his lips.

"Knock it off," she says, her voice sharp.

"Come on," he whines, pressing his leg between hers, his thigh rubbing against her. She's already wet, and the friction draws a shuddering breath from her. "Stop worrying for a minute and let me take care of you, yeah?"

"You could die."

"I'm not gonna die."

He speaks with the same infuriating confidence that he brings to every situation, as if the laws of physics and human frailty don't apply to him.

"Caleb—"

"And if I do, you'll just have to live with the regret." He grins, his tone light. "The regret that you never got to fuck me. That you never found out what it feels like to have me inside you."

He shifts his weight, pushing against her, and she moans. The sound goes straight to his cock, and he's already half-hard again. He's always had a short refractory period, but she has a way of making him feel like a horny teenager, ready to go at the slightest provocation.

"Do you want me to beg?" He nuzzles her neck, his lips brushing against her ear. "Because I will. Get down on my knees and plead with you. Anything you want. Just let me touch you. Let me show you how good it can be."

"Damn it, Caleb."

Her voice is a harsh whisper, but she doesn't pull away.

"Please," he murmurs, his hands sliding under her skirt, pushing the fabric up. "Let me touch you. I want to make you feel good. I want to make you scream my name. Let me make you come."

She bites her lip, a shudder running through her.

"You're such a fucking asshole," she says, her words lacking their usual venom.

"Guilty." He smiles against her skin. "So what do you say?"

She hesitates, her eyes searching his. He meets her gaze steadily, his expression earnest.

"Fuck it."

Her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him into a rough kiss. He groans, his hands gripping her thighs, his nails digging into her skin. She gasps, her teeth catching his lower lip, and the sudden flare of pain sends a shiver through him.

Caleb's hands slide higher, pulling her panties aside, his fingers finding her slick heat. She's wet and wanting, and the knowledge rips a groan from him.

"You're so fucking wet," he says, pressing a finger inside her. She's tight, her walls fluttering around him, and his cock twitches. "Is this all for me? Did sucking my cock turn you on this much?"

She glares at him, but there's no real anger behind it, only desire.

"Shut up and get on with it," she says, her tone sharp.

"Yes, ma'am."

He works a second finger into her, his thumb finding her clit. She lets out a strangled moan, her hips bucking, and he swallows hard, his cock aching.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmurs. "The sounds you make... I could listen to you forever."

He fucks her with his fingers, curling them inside her, drawing another gasp from her. She's grinding against his hand, chasing the pleasure, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to the exposed skin above her collar.

"That's it," he whispers. "Let go. Let me take care of you."

Her fingers tighten in his hair, and he lets out a hiss, the mix of pain and pleasure sending a shudder through him. He's hard, his cock leaking, but he ignores his own needs, focusing on her. Making her feel good is more important than his own release.

He slips a third finger inside her, stretching her, and she moans, her head falling back. He can tell she's close, her inner walls fluttering, her breathing ragged.

"Caleb," she gasps, her voice a desperate plea.

"I'm here," he says, kissing her neck, his fingers moving faster. "I've got you."

She clutches at him, her body trembling, her walls clenching around him. He presses his forehead to her temple, drinking in the sight of her. She's flushed, her lips parted, her eyes closed, lost in pleasure.

It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Her orgasm hits, her back arching, a strangled cry escaping her. He holds her through it, his arms around her, his lips brushing against her cheek. She's panting, her breath hot on his skin, and he can't look away.

He's always been a sucker for a pretty girl, and she's the prettiest girl he's ever seen. Especially like this, lost in pleasure, her walls pulsing around his fingers, slick with her juices.

She slumps against him, her breathing slowing. He gently withdraws his fingers, his thumb circling her clit. Another jolt of pleasure shoots through her, and she shudders, a soft moan escaping her. Caleb presses his face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in.

She smells like expensive perfume and arousal, and he's never been harder.

After a moment, he withdraws his hand and licks his fingers clean, his eyes fluttering shut at the taste of her. She watches him, her lips parted, her breath catching.

"You taste like fucking heaven," he murmurs.

She laughs, a low, throaty sound.

"Glad you like it," she says, scooting closer and spreading her legs. Her skirt bunches up around her hips, exposing her bare pussy to him. "Now put that mouth of yours to good use."

Caleb doesn't need to be told twice. He kneels between her legs, his hands sliding up her thighs. He takes his time, mapping every inch of her skin, committing it to memory. Her legs are lean and muscular, the product of countless hours spent training, and he can't resist the urge to kiss the inside of her thigh. She sighs, her fingers curling in his hair, and he smiles against her skin.

Her pussy is pink and perfect, swollen and slick from her recent orgasm, and he leans in, breathing her in. He presses a kiss to her clit, and she moans, her hips bucking. He starts slow, his tongue lapping at her, savoring her taste. She's a little tart, a little sweet, and he could drown in her.

Her fingers tighten in his hair, and she rocks her hips, grinding against his mouth.

"Yes," she gasps. "Just like that."

Caleb groans at the praise, the vibrations making her shudder. His hands grip her thighs, his thumbs tracing circles on her skin. Every movement draws a new sound from her, a new gasp or moan, and he chases them, hungry for more.

She's so responsive, her body arching and twisting, and he knows he's the one making her feel like this. He's the one drawing these sounds from her, making her tremble and shudder, and the satisfaction is dizzying.

Her hand tightens in his hair, and she tugs him closer, her hips bucking. He licks and sucks, his tongue teasing her clit. She's panting, her breathing ragged, and he can tell she's close. He redoubles his efforts, his fingers digging into her thighs.

"Caleb."

His name is little more than a choked whisper, and then she's coming, her body convulsing, her thighs squeezing around his head. He doesn't let up, his tongue working her through her orgasm, drawing out every second of pleasure.

She slumps back, her chest heaving, her hair tousled. She's a mess, and it's his doing. He did that.

He sits back, his face still wet with her juices, a smug smile on his lips.

"You look pretty pleased with yourself," she says, her voice raspy.

"Can't imagine why."

She snorts.

"Asshole."

He grins.

"You like it."

"Unfortunately."

She reaches down and cups his cheek, her thumb wiping a trace of her juices from his skin. He sucks it into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the tip, and her eyes darken.

"Get up," she orders, her voice husky.

He complies, his muscles aching. She grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him into a rough kiss, her teeth nipping at his lower lip. Caleb groans, his hands settling on her waist. She kisses him like she's trying to devour him, her tongue demanding and hungry.

When she finally breaks the kiss, they're both breathless.

"Fuck me," she says, her fingers curling around his cock. He sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut. "I want to feel you inside me."

He leans his forehead against hers, his hands gripping her hips.

"God, you're bossy." Despite his words, his tone is affectionate, his expression almost boyish with eagerness. "But I like that about you."

"Do you now?"

Her lips find his, and he melts into the kiss, his hands sliding up her back, her body flush against his.

"Fuck," he whispers. "I want you so badly."

She pulls back and stares at him, her eyes intense.

"Then have me."

He pushes her legs apart, his cock rubbing against her entrance. She's warm and wet, and the feeling makes his toes curl.

He presses his lips to hers, his hands cupping her ass, drawing her closer. She wraps her arms around him, her hands tangling in his hair. They kiss like they're fighting, a clash of tongues and teeth and lips, each vying for dominance.

"Do it," she murmurs against his lips. "Stop teasing."

"I'm not teasing." Caleb's voice is a low growl, his hands squeezing her ass. "I'm trying not to come like a goddamn teenager."

She laughs, a warm, rich sound that sends a shiver through him. He leans into her, the feel of her body against his intoxicating. She's warm and solid, her curves fitting against him perfectly.

He shifts his weight, his cock nudging her entrance. She sucks in a breath, her grip tightening.

"Caleb," she whispers, his name a prayer on her lips.

"Yes."

He thrusts into her, his cock sinking into her warmth. They groan in unison, the pleasure overwhelming. He feels like he's drowning, the air stolen from his lungs.

"Fuck." He breathes the word, his forehead resting against hers. "How are you still so tight?"

She laughs, a soft huff of air.

"Is that a complaint?"

"God, no. Just... fuck."

They stay like that for a moment, their bodies joined, their breathing synchronized. Caleb tries to think about anything other than how good she feels wrapped around his cock. Baseball stats. Algebra. Old people naked.

It doesn't help.

Her hands are tangled in his hair, her nails digging into his scalp, and the sharpness of it keeps him grounded. He kisses her, his lips soft against hers, and her eyes flutter closed. It's a gentle kiss, nothing like the bruising kisses they shared before, and it makes their situation seem even more surreal.

He's fucking the woman who's supposed to torture him, and it's the most alive he's ever felt.

He starts slow, rocking into her, and she matches his pace. They fall into a rhythm, their bodies moving together, and it's somehow both comforting and erotic.

"God, you feel good," he murmurs, his lips brushing against hers. "I could do this forever."

She hums, her breath hitching.

"We don't have forever."

Her voice is quiet, the words hanging between them. He wants to tell her they could have eternity, if they wanted it, but he bites back the thought. Now is not the time.

"We have now," he says instead. "And that will have to do for now."

Caleb rolls his hips, burying himself deeper inside her, and she moans, her eyes fluttering closed. He leans forward, kissing her neck, his teeth nipping at her skin. She shudders, her nails raking across his back.

He picks up the pace, his thrusts growing harder, faster. She's panting, her head thrown back, her hair a tangled mess. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, drinking in the scent of her. She smells like sweat and sex, something primal and earthy, and it drives him wild.

Her legs wrap around his waist, her ankles crossed, her heels digging into his back. She's urging him on, pulling him closer, and he can't deny her.

He fucks her hard and fast, the table creaking under the strain. Her back is arched, her breasts straining against her shirt, and he leans down, kissing the exposed skin above her collar.

The feel of her wrapped around his cock, her walls squeezing him, is overwhelming. He can't think straight, his thoughts a jumble of desire and need. All he can focus on is her, her body, her pleasure.

"That's it," he murmurs, his teeth grazing her ear. "Take it. Take all of it."

She lets out a soft moan, her eyes half-lidded.

"Harder," she whispers, her fingers clutching at him. "Fuck me harder."

He obeys, his hands gripping her thighs, his hips pistoning. He's slamming into her, the sound of flesh slapping together filling the room, and she's writhing beneath him, panting, her skin flushed.

"Yes," she gasps. "There. Just there."

"Fuck."

The word escapes him in a strangled groan, and he can feel the pressure building, the need for release coiling inside him.

"Are you going to come for me?"

"Not... yet..." Caleb grunts, his jaw clenched, his body taut. "Not until... you do."

"I'm close," she pants. "Make me come, Caleb. Make me come all over your cock."

He curses her under his breath, her dirty talk turning him on even more. He reaches between them, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing the sensitive bud. She arches her back, her hips bucking, a keening moan escaping her.

Caleb keeps the same relentless pace, his cock hitting her sweet spot over and over. Her eyes are screwed shut, her lips parted, her chest heaving. She's the picture of ecstasy, and he can't help but stare, his gaze hungrily devouring the sight.

"Yes," she gasps. "Oh, fuck yes."

Her orgasm hits her hard, her body tensing, her inner walls clamping down around him. He growls, his grip on her thighs tightening. The feel of her pulsing around his cock, her body trembling, is too much for him. He comes, a ragged cry escaping him, his release flooding her.

They stay like that for a moment, caught in a haze of pleasure, their bodies connected. When the initial shock of his orgasm fades, Caleb slowly withdraws, his cock slick with his own seed. He can't help but smile at the sight. She's a mess, her legs splayed open, her pussy leaking his cum. It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"You look so good like this," he says, tracing a finger through the mess, pushing the slick fluid back inside her. "All used and filthy."

She sighs, her eyelids fluttering, her chest still heaving.

"Help me clean up," she mutters, fumbling with her uniform, her fingers clumsy.

It's an order, and he's happy to obey. He kneels between her legs again, cleaning her up with his tongue. She gasps, her thighs twitching, a shudder running through her. Her fingers are tight in his hair, holding him in place. He takes his time, licking her clean, savoring the taste of them together.

Once he's finished, he sits back on his heels, licking his lips, his gaze meeting hers. She looks wrecked, her hair a tangled mess, her eyes wide, her lips swollen from his kisses. It's a good look for her.

"There." His voice is hoarse, his throat dry. "All clean."

She laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends a shiver through him. She tugs on his hair, pulling him up, and he complies, rising to his feet.

"Good." She leans forward, her lips brushing against his. "Now help me fix my uniform."

Caleb grins, his hands reaching for her skirt. He smooths the fabric down, adjusting her clothes until she's presentable. Not that it matters. Anyone with half a brain could tell what they'd been up to. She's flushed, her cheeks rosy, her hair mussed, and he's not much better, his lips swollen, his skin covered in scratch marks.

She tucks him back into his pants, and he winces. His cock is still sensitive, his nerve endings firing. She notices and gives him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry," she murmurs, zipping his fly.

"Don't be."

He reaches out, cupping her cheek, and kisses her. It's a soft, tender kiss, and it surprises them both.

"What was that for?"

"Just because."

Before she can reply, there's a pounding on the door.

"Major! Open the door immediately!"

"Fuck," she hisses.

Caleb gives her a roguish grin.

"Don't worry," he whispers. "I've got you."

Her brow furrows, her lips parting, but before she can reply, Caleb turns and yanks the door open. Standing outside is one of her superiors, judging by the medals pinned to their uniform. Behind them, a small group of soldiers waits, their expressions a mix of anxiety and confusion.

"Colonel!" the officer exclaims, his eyes darting between Caleb and the major. "I came here as soon as I heard—"

"You shouldn't have."

Caleb's tone is calm and authoritative, a far cry from the man who'd been cracking jokes mere moments ago. Now he's all business, his expression serious, his stance commanding.

"The Major and I were having a… conversation." He turns his head to look over his shoulder at her. "Weren't we, Major?"

She's staring at him, her eyes wide. Caleb hadn't intended to reveal his true identity, but he can't let her be punished. Not when it's his fault. She's frozen, her mouth half-open, and Caleb can't blame her. He knows his deception must have stung, and the last thing she wants is to have a target painted on her back. But she recovers quickly, her face an unreadable mask.

"We were," she agrees, her tone matching his. "Colonel Xia was kind enough to provide some useful pointers."

Her superior glances between the two of them, nodding slowly.

"And now you're free to leave, Colonel." The Major's tone is casual, but Caleb can hear the note of steel beneath the surface. Shit, she's pissed. "I apologize once again for wasting your time."

"No, no, the apology is all mine." Caleb smiles, a charming, crooked smile that he hopes will smooth things over. "It's my fault. I should have warned the base about my arrival."

The officer clears his throat, his face red. He's obviously uncomfortable, and Caleb can't blame him.

"You can go, Major." The superior dismisses the Major. "I need to speak to Colonel Xia alone."

She hesitates, her jaw clenching, and Caleb can see the anger simmering in her eyes.

"I'll be in my office. Colonel. Lieutenant Colonel."

She inclines her head, then stalks past them, her boots clicking on the stone floor. Caleb watches her go, a knot of guilt forming in his stomach. He shouldn't have kept her in the dark, but the situation was too delicate to risk any leaks. Besides, he wasn't expecting things to... escalate between them. Not that he's complaining.

"Colonel Xia." The officer snaps him out of his thoughts. "I trust that the Major didn't cause you too much trouble."

"Not at all." Caleb manages a wry smile. "She's a formidable woman. I can see why you chose her to lead the base."

"Indeed." The lieutenant colonel glances over his shoulder, then back at Caleb. "Forgive my impertinence, Colonel, but would you care to share the nature of your visit? Your arrival was quite... unexpected."

Caleb waves a hand, his expression casual.

"Just checking in on things. Making sure everything's running smoothly."

"Of course." The officer bows his head, his shoulders stiff. "Will you be staying long?"

Caleb pauses, pretending to think. In reality, he knows exactly how long his visit will be. As long as she allows it.

"A few days," he replies, hoping his uncertainty isn't too obvious.

The officer nods, his expression inscrutable.

"Very well. Allow me to show you to your quarters, Colonel."

***

He finds her sitting behind her desk, a stack of paperwork in front of her. She has taken a shower, and she is wearing a fresh uniform. Her hair is wet, pulled back in a tight bun, her expression cold and distant. She looks exactly like the emotionless soldier he'd first met.

Oh, he's really done it now.

Caleb himself had showered and changed into his uniform. His rank and decorations identify him as a colonel in the Farspace Defense Force. The gold braiding, the bright red stars on his shoulders, the medals and badges—all of it speaks of prestige and authority.

But right now, he feels like a teenager standing before an irate principal, trying to explain away his misbehavior.

"Major," he says.

"Colonel." Her tone is flat.

Caleb pauses, then shuts the door behind him. It clicks loudly as the lock slides into place. He doesn't want anyone walking in on them. Not now.

He takes a deep breath and steps towards her desk.

"I owe you an explanation."

She doesn't look up, her gaze fixed on her work.

"You don't owe me anything." She scribbles something, then turns the page. "In fact, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather forget this ever happened."

Caleb grimaces. That stings. But it's a fair reaction, considering the deception he's committed.

"How mad are you?" Caleb asks, leaning against her desk, watching her face. "On a scale from 'annoyed' to 'I'm going to shoot you'."

She doesn't answer, and the silence stretches between them. Caleb swallows, his palms growing damp. He would rather face a firing squad than her silent fury.

"Look," he begins, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to get this far. I didn't expect..." He pauses, trying to find the right words. "I didn't plan on things getting complicated."

That earns him a look, a dark, dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Is that what you call this?"

"Among other things, yes."

His honesty seems to catch her off-guard. She sets her pen down, studying him with those keen, perceptive eyes. He shifts, suddenly self-conscious.

"Well, then," she says, her voice steady, "I hope whatever you got out of this was worth it."

Her words are barbed, designed to hurt him. They hit their mark, and he flinches, his eyes downcast.

"I never meant to use you." He looks at her, his expression earnest. "I wanted to tell you, I did, but it was too risky. There's a lot you don't know, and I couldn't afford for my cover to be blown. I needed to make sure the base was safe, and the only way to do that was to infiltrate the organization."

She shakes her head, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Well, you've discovered two things, Colonel Xia." Her voice is sharp, her tone cutting. "One, this base is not as secure as it should be, and two, the woman in charge of its security is easily manipulated."

Caleb's stomach drops. He didn't realize she was beating herself up over this.

"It's not your fault," he says softly.

"Isn't it?" She fixes him with a hard stare. "Not only did you infiltrate the base without so much as a whisper to me, but I also allowed you to seduce me."

He grimaces. She sounds so disgusted with herself, and it kills him to hear her talk that way.

"That was not seduction." Caleb's voice is firm, his gaze unwavering. "That was attraction, chemistry. Pure and simple. You couldn't control it, just like I couldn't."

He leans forward, his palms flat on her desk, caging her in.

"And for what it's worth, I'm not sorry it happened. I'm just sorry I didn't tell you the truth."

She glares at him, her hands clenched in her lap. He can feel the anger radiating off her, and he knows she wants to hit him, to hurt him.

But she doesn't. Instead, she takes a deep breath and stands.

"I think it's best if you return to your quarters, Colonel." Her tone is cool, detached. "I need to finish my work, and I'm sure you have things to take care of."

He doesn't move. He can't. If he leaves, he knows it's over.

"Don't shut me out, please." He walks around the desk, twisting her chair around so that they're facing each other. "Not after what we've shared."

Caleb kneels down in front of her, his hands on her thighs. He can feel her muscles tense under his touch, but she doesn't pull away.

"Talk to me," he murmurs. "Tell me how you're feeling."

She huffs a laugh, a bitter sound.

"Angry. Betrayed. Embarrassed." She shakes her head. "Take your pick."

"None of that is your fault."

"Isn't it?" She raises an eyebrow. "I was supposed to be in charge here, and I failed. Miserably."

"You didn't fail." Caleb's voice is soft. "You did your job. And you did it well."

"Then how did you get in?"

"There's few places in this world that I can't enter, if I want to." He shrugs. "Your base is no exception."

Her lips curl in a scowl.

"That's not comforting, Colonel."

"It wasn't meant to be."

Caleb rubs his thumbs over her legs, soothing her, trying to ease the tension he can feel coiled within her. She leans back in her chair, her eyes downcast, her expression conflicted.

"You can't stay mad at me forever." He gives her a playful grin, his violet eyes twinkling. "We both know that."

"Watch me."

Caleb leans forward, resting his head on her knees. She tenses, her body stiff. But he doesn't move, and neither does she.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"For what?"

"Lying to you. Using you. Being a general asshole."

He glances up, giving her a wry smile.

"I never expected to like you so much. I didn't intend for things to... become personal."

Her brow furrows, her lips twitching.

"Are you saying that you don't usually sleep with the people you're investigating?"

Caleb lets out a dry chuckle.

"Not usually, no."

"So why did you make an exception for me?"

He pauses, trying to find the right words.

"Because you're... you." Caleb searches her face. "I didn't expect that, and it threw me. You weren't what I was expecting."

"No?" Her tone is dry. "What were you expecting?"

"Not someone who could make me hard just by looking at me."

His bluntness startles her, and her cheeks flush.

"Caleb," she chides, and the sound of his name on her lips is sweeter than any music.

"What? It's true." He smirks, his violet eyes dancing with mischief. "And I think you like knowing the effect you have on me."

She doesn't deny it.

"Why are you here, Caleb?" Her voice is quiet, her expression unreadable. "What do you want from me?"

"Right now?" His hands trail up her thighs, his thumbs brushing the hem of her skirt. "I want you to forgive me."

She stares at him, her brow furrowed.

"And if I don't?"

"I'll spend every day trying to earn your forgiveness." He meets her gaze, his own intense. "I'll make it up to you, somehow. I promise."

She swallows, her eyes searching his.

"I'm still mad at you."

"I know."

"You're not off the hook yet."

"I didn't think I was."

He watches her, waiting. She sighs, and her shoulders sag.

"What am I going to do with you?" she mutters, reaching down to cup his cheek.

Caleb turns his head, pressing a kiss into her palm.

"I can think of a few things."

She laughs, and the sound warms his heart. He's missed hearing her laugh.

"Well, I can't exactly kick you out of my office. Or off the base." She sighs, her thumb stroking his cheek. "So, I guess I'll have to let you stay."

Caleb grins, his hand sliding up her skirt.

"Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

"Not even close." She raises an eyebrow. "You still have a lot of making up to do."

"That can be arranged."

He slides his hands further up her skirt, his fingers skimming the edge of her panties. She sucks in a breath, her body tensing.

"You're terrible," she murmurs, her eyes half-closing as he presses a kiss to her inner thigh.

"You like it," he says, smirking.

She can't argue with that.