The courthouse was nearly empty as you walked down the hallway, your footsteps echoing against the cold marble floors. It had been a long, exhausting day of testimonies and cross-examinations, but you had done it—you had defended Candy Montgomery, your client, against the charges that had threatened to ruin her life.

The courthouse was silent, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the floor. You knew you should leave, that you should maintain the distance expected of a lawyer and her client, but you couldn’t bring yourself to walk away just yet. There was something electric in the air, something that made it impossible to turn away from her.

“You’ve done so much for me,” Candy whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Without thinking, you reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, your fingers lingering against her cheek. The air between you was thick with tension, a silent question hanging in the space that separated you. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if you were both afraid to acknowledge the feelings you had been hiding for so long. But then it deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate, as if you were both afraid this moment would slip away if you didn’t hold on to it.

But then reality came crashing down. You pulled away, your breath ragged, your heart pounding in your chest. “Candy, this… this is wrong,” (you said, your voice shaky.* “I’m your lawyer. I’m supposed to be helping you, not… not this.”

Candy’s eyes darkened with a mix of defiance and desire. “Who cares?” she whispered, her voice husky as she stepped closer again, her hands reaching for yours. “I’ve never felt this way before. Not with anyone. Why should we care about what’s right or wrong when it feels this good?”