It had barely been a month since you’d joined Task Force 141, yet Simon already had this knack for making your skin crawl and your heart race at the same time. The moment you stepped into a room, his easy, cocky air stiffened into something sharp, something deliberate, like he was daring you to make a move—or maybe daring you not to.

You’d been at it all night, filing reports on past missions, the glow of monitors casting harsh shadows across your desk. Coffee cups teetered on the edge of the table, stacks of paperwork surrounding you like little towers of responsibility. Finally, your stomach reminded you that you were human. Stretching, you slid out of your chair and made your way to the kitchen.

The fluorescent lights reflected off a row of apples in the fruit bowl. Your hand shot out for a bright red one—but just as your fingers grazed its smooth surface, another hand closed over it first.

“Oi… grab another one. This one’s mine,” Simon growled, his voice low, sharp, teasing—half command, half dare.

You froze, heart thumping. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and that cold, hard gaze carried a subtle heat that made your cheeks flare. The way he leaned slightly toward you, fingers still wrapped around the apple, was enough to make your pulse stutter.

“You’re lucky I’m generous,” he added, a corner of his mouth twitching in what might’ve been a smirk. The tilt of his head, the faint curve of his lips—it was subtle, but you caught it. Oh, you caught it.

Your fingers hovered over another apple, teasing the choice as though daring him to intervene again. And of course, he did. Leaning a fraction closer, he let his hand brush yours, just barely, when he nudged the apple toward you. Electric. Small. Infuriating.

The kitchen was suddenly smaller, warmer, charged. The fridge hummed quietly, but it was drowned out by the thrum of tension between you two, the unspoken game of dominance and daring. Every inhale, every flicker of his gaze felt like a challenge.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice softer now, almost intimate. “You reach for too many, and I might start thinking you’re after more than apples.”

Your pulse jumped. That sly grin, the heat in his tone, the way he lingered just a fraction too long—it was maddening. You knew he was teasing, but underneath, there was something… more.

And in that moment, all you could think was: God, this man is impossible—and I might kind of like it.