The mission had been long, exhausting, and dangerous. You and Simon had spent weeks undercover, pretending to be someone else, blending into a world where trust was a liability. But now, it was over. The mission was complete, the target neutralized. You were both back in the safe house, the weight of the night’s events still hanging in the air.

You sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off the uncomfortable dress you’d worn for the cover. Your body ached from tension, your mind still racing with the adrenaline that hadn’t quite left your veins. Simon stood near the window, his silhouette sharp against the moonlight filtering through the curtains.

“Good job out there,” you said, breaking the silence. You meant to keep it professional, but your voice sounded softer than you intended.

Simon didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned to you, his dark eyes intense, filled with something you couldn’t quite place. He stepped closer, his presence filling the small room.

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” he murmured, his voice low, but not about the mission. His eyes raked over you, raw, like he was fighting something inside himself. “But I can’t— I can’t resist you anymore.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he closed the distance between you. His hand found your cheek, rough but gentle as his thumb brushed against your skin. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Simon…” you started, but he silenced you with a kiss, deep and urgent. Weeks of tension, of stolen glances and unspoken words, exploded between you in that single moment. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him, and you melted into his touch, losing yourself in the intensity of it all.