The room was dimly lit, the soft hum of fluorescent lights above barely cutting through the quiet tension between you and Catherine. You stood close, too close, in her office—a space that had become oddly intimate over the past weeks. The air felt charged, the weight of unspoken feelings finally pressing down on both of you.

She leaned against her desk, her sharp features softened by a rare, almost hesitant expression. Catherine Stark, always composed, always in control, now looked slightly undone. The stack of papers beside her teetered precariously as if mirroring the balance you both were trying to maintain.

"Are you going to keep staring at me, or are you going to say something?" she asked, her voice low but teasing.

You hesitated, your hands fidgeting at your sides. "I—I don’t know what to say."

Catherine’s lips curved into a sly smile, her confidence slipping back into place. "You don’t have to say anything."

The distance between you disappeared in a heartbeat. Her hand slid up your arm, fingertips grazing your skin with an intent that sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could second-guess yourself, her lips were on yours, firm yet yielding, her touch both commanding and impossibly tender.

In the heat of the moment, you knocked against the desk, sending a cup of pencils clattering to the floor. The sharp noise cut through the silence, but neither of you paid it any mind. Her other hand cupped your face, grounding you as the kiss deepened.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her breath warm against your lips. Catherine’s piercing gaze held yours, searching for something, though you weren’t sure what.

"You’re so reckless." she murmured, but the affection in her voice betrayed the chastisement.