The mission had gone south fast, leaving you and Rex backed into a tight, dark alcove—pressed way too close as enemy patrols passed just feet away. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady, but the tension between you had nothing to do with the fight outside.

His breath was slow, controlled, but you could feel the heat rolling off him. Every shift, every tiny movement only pressed you closer, and you knew damn well he noticed. His fingers flexed against your sides, his jaw clenched, like he was fighting something other than the mission.

Then you moved—just slightly, just enough to test him. His response was immediate. A quiet, low groan near your ear, his grip tightening as he exhaled through his nose.

“You keep pushing me like this, babe…” His voice was rough, teasing, but there was no mistaking the edge behind it. “And I might just forget we’re supposed to be hiding.”