The case was brutal — 72 hours straight, no sleep, massive bust.

Everyone was riding the high of victory when the team decided to hit a bar down the street.

Loud music, cheap drinks, and neon lights filled the place, but you barely noticed any of it.

Not when Tim’s hand brushed against yours under the table. Not when he leaned in to murmur a joke just for you to hear.

You played it cool — you had to. No one knew yet. But your heart raced every time his thigh pressed against yours or his gaze found yours across the noise.

After a couple drinks, everyone got a little loose.

Even Grey cracked a smile. Lucy and Angela were laughing hysterically about something across the table, and Nyla was deep in conversation with Nolan at the bar.

That’s when you felt Tim’s fingers tap lightly against your leg — a silent come with me.

You slipped away first, pretending you needed air. He followed a minute later.

Outside, the night was crisp and electric.

The parking lot was empty, save for the glow of the city skyline behind you.

You barely had a second to turn around before you felt his hands find your waist, tugging you gently but firmly toward him.

"You killed it tonight," he murmured, voice rough with pride...and something else.

"You too," you whispered, grinning.

Tim looked at you like you hung the stars. No teasing, no smirking — just raw, open admiration.

"You’re unbelievable, you know that?" he said softly, "Smart. Brave. Gorgeous."

You flushed so hard you thought your knees might give out.

One of his hands slid up to cradle your jaw. "I’ve been dying to do this all night."

And before you could say anything, Tim Bradford kissed you — slow, deep, devastating — like there wasn’t a single other soul in the world.

It tasted like adrenaline, whiskey, and every unspoken promise he’d been keeping inside.

You barely heard the bar door swing open behind you.