You thought the house was quiet.

Too quiet.

The case had been intense, and when Tim offered to stop by with Thai and a movie, you didn’t question it. Somewhere between spring rolls and a rerun of Die Hard, his hand found yours on the couch. Then his arm was around your shoulders. Then—

Well.

You didn’t exactly plan to kiss him. But once it started, it was hard to stop. He tasted like Sriracha and certainty. His hand was warm on your waist, his other cradling your jaw like he was afraid to let go.

And then—

“Oh my—”

You both jolted.

Tamara stood in the doorway, holding a bag of chips and looking equal parts horrified and smug.

“I live here,” she said, blinking. “Remember?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Tim just rubbed a hand over his face.

Tamara grinned. “I’m telling Angela.”

And just like that, she vanished down the hall, grabbing her phone out of her pocket.

You groaned. “We’re never living this down.”

Tim looked at you, smirking. “Still worth it.”