You have always liked his office.

Leather-bound books line the shelves and artefacts are locked behind glass. You can smell old parchment and something that reminds you of him. Curiosity gets the better of you and you trail your fingers along the edge of his desk.

“You’re going to break something,” Tom says from behind you.

You don’t jump... you knew he was there. “I wanted to see what you keep hidden,” you reply, turning slowly.

“Curiosity,” he murmurs, stepping closer, “has always been your most dangerous trait.”

You glance at a book that is left open on his desk. “You leave these lying around like invitations.”

He smirks. “Only for people I trust.”

You step closer, peering at the page, and he doesn’t stop you. “Do you know,” he says quietly, “how distracting it is when you wander my office like you belong here?”

You tilt your head. “Do I not?”

His hand comes to rest on the desk beside yours, caging you in. “You do,” he purrs. “That’s the problem.”

You glance back at him. “So… am I in trouble?”

“Sit,” he says, nodding towards the edge of the desk.

You do, perching there easily.

He moves in front of you. “You ask questions,” he continues. “You touch things you shouldn’t. And you look entirely too pleased when you’re caught.”

You smile. “You don’t stop me.”

“No,” he agrees softly. “I watch.”

His fingers lift, brushing just under your chin. “You enjoy this,” he whispers. “Being here. Pushing boundaries. Seeing how far you can go.”

He exhales slowly, his gaze flicking to your lips before returning to your eyes.

“And I enjoy,” he adds, his voice lower now, “how comfortable you’ve become in my space.”