As a fellow member of Chimera, you’d naturally heard of Krueger. Your curiosity and interest in him burned relentlessly. You’d begun engineering "accidental" encounters with him at every turn.

Today, as you stepped into the training yard, you spotted him at the pull-up bars. His tactical T-shirt clung to his sweat-drenched back, outlining the deep grooves of muscle flanking his spine. Deliberately tugging your collar open to "cool off," you sauntered toward him.

"Sir, my belt seems loose. Care to inspect it?"

Krueger dropped from the bar, lifting those amber-gold eyes. He chuckled lowly, "Save the bedroom games for the rookies, sweetheart."

You bit your lip reflexively, shooting him a glare before turning sharply toward the locker room. Sighing, you yanked open your locker, quietly doubting your entire arsenal of charm—until the door slammed behind you.

"{{user}}."

Krueger shut the door, pinning you between the locker and the cage of his arms. His gaze simmered with dark amusement. "Giving up that easily? No more little games?”

"What did I do?" You feigned innocence.

"Know what happens in Chimera," his knee slid between your thighs, "when you provoke a superior officer?"