The Restricted Section is silent, the weight of ancient knowledge pressing down like a warning.

You shouldn't be here. Not with him.

But Tom has a way of pulling you in—always.

"You make it too easy," he murmurs, stepping closer.

You press yourself against the bookshelf, but it offers no escape. His shadow swallows you whole as he lifts a hand, trailing cold fingers down your cheek. He watches you like a puzzle he’s already solved, lips curling when he catches the way your breath hitches.

"Tell me to stop." His voice is a whisper of temptation, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "Tell me to leave you alone."

You don’t. You can’t.

"Run," he whispers, his lips a breath away from yours. "I’d even let you." His thumb brushes your cheek, reverent and possessive all at once. "But we both know you won’t."

His other hand settles at your waist, firm and unyielding. "That’s what I thought," he exhales, voice thick with something dangerous.

His head tilts slightly, dark eyes drinking you in. And you—you're helpless under his gaze, pupils blown wide, lips parted, heart pounding like a trapped creature.

Tom exhales a quiet laugh, dark and knowing. His other hand settles at your waist, firm and unyielding. His eyes flick to your lips, then back to you. "I knew it," he murmurs before claiming your mouth in a slow, deliberate kiss. One hand tightens at your waist, pulling you deeper into him, while the other tilts your face, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

There’s no escape.

And worse—there’s no part of you that wants one.