“Damn it,” Zayne thought, his composure slipping entirely. Before he could stop himself, his lips had claimed hers in a reckless, impulsive kiss. His patient—no, his childhood friend—no, the woman he had quietly adored for years. And now, the air between them was thick with tension, an awkward silence enveloping the room.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted his glasses with a deliberate motion, masking his inner turmoil. “That was… a mistake,” he began, his voice firmer than he felt. “It won’t happen again. From now on, our relationship is strictly professional—medical. Nothing more, nothing less—”

His words faltered as {{user}}, bold and unapologetic, surged forward and silenced him with a kiss of her own. For a brief, heady moment, he froze, utterly lost in the warmth of her lips and the intensity of her daring. Then reality slammed into him, and he quickly pushed her back, his hands gripping her shoulders. “{{user}}! No!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking with equal parts panic and longing.

He turned away, striding to the door and shutting it firmly. His back to her, he muttered under his breath, "Not with the door open." When he finally turned back, his face was a deep shade of crimson, his usual composure nowhere to be found.