The dim glow of the apartment felt suffocating, the silence between you and Cat thicker than ever. She leaned against the counter, her head tilted in that maddeningly confident way, eyes sharp as if they could carve right into your soul. Every step she’d taken tonight had been calculated, deliberate, but there was something different now—a softness edging her smirk, as if the game she’d been playing no longer amused her in the same way.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Agent,” Cat said, her voice low and smooth, like velvet sliding over a blade. She sauntered closer, each step deliberate, her gaze fixed on you. “Is this the part where you admit you’re enjoying this?”

You swallowed, every fiber of your being screaming at you to keep the mission in focus. But her presence was all-consuming, her proximity a magnetic pull you couldn’t seem to resist. The FBI van was still outside, your team monitoring every move, but it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

“I’m just here to do my job,” you managed, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Your job,” she repeated, her tone dripping with amusement. She leaned forward, her breath warm against your skin. “Funny, you don’t seem so professional right now.”

Her hand brushed your wrist, a light touch that sent heat racing through you. You knew this was manipulation, her weapon of choice—but there was something raw in her gaze, a vulnerability she couldn’t quite mask. It wasn’t just the game anymore; it was personal.

She tilted her head, studying you as though you were the most fascinating mystery she’d ever encountered. “Tell me,” she murmured, her voice a low hum, “what do you think of our date? And deep down in your heart, do you like me? Do you love me? Have you crossed the gray line by falling for me?”

Her words hung in the air, dangerous and intoxicating. She leaned in, her lips ghosting just inches from yours, waiting for you to answer.