The base was supposed to be off-limits tonight, but you had a reason to be there. Something important—something only Sullivan could help you with. You walked down the empty corridor, the fluorescent lights flickering, and your pulse jumped with every echo of your own footsteps.

When you reached his office, the door was cracked open. You knocked lightly. “Sullivan? You here?”

The door swung wider—and there he was. Shirtless, the towel from his shower still clinging to his hips, wet hair sticking to his forehead. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You really don’t know how to take a hint, do you?” His voice was low, gravelly, teasing. “I told you to wait.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying not to let your nerves show. “And I did… for like, ten minutes.”

He laughed, a deep, dangerous sound that made the hair on your arms stand on end. “You should’ve waited longer.” He stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. “But since you’re here… I’ll make it worth your while.”

Inside, the office smelled faintly of gun oil, sweat, and something uniquely him. He held up a folder, but the way he did it—slow, deliberate—made it feel less like handing over papers and more like a challenge. “This is what you came for, right?”

Your fingers brushed against his as you took it. The touch was brief, but enough to send a jolt straight to your chest. He stepped closer, close enough that the heat of his body was impossible to ignore. His gaze locked on yours, a storm barely restrained behind the calm, professional mask.