You hit the elevator button with a sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face. Another brutal shift. Another night where you and Wilson orbit each other with too much tension and not enough resolution.

He joins you a second later, holding a file he doesn’t seem to care about. The air between you shifts immediately—thicker now. Sharper.

“You’re really gonna pretend nothing’s happening?” he murmurs once the doors close.

You turn to him, eyes narrowing. “What are you talking abou—”

He doesn’t let you finish.

Wilson drops the file. Crosses the space in two strides. One hand cups your jaw, the other anchors at your waist, and he kisses you—fast, hard, a little desperate.

You gasp softly into his mouth. His thumb strokes your cheek like an apology, even as his mouth says something very different.

When he finally pulls back, both of you breathless, he mutters against your lips, “Sorry. I just… couldn’t not.”

The elevator dings.

You’re still pressed to the wall when the doors open.

And he’s still looking at you like he’s not done.