The office became impossible by noon.

Not because of deadlines.

Not because of meetings.

Because Alex kept looking at her like he’d forgotten other people existed.

And Mia kept catching him doing it.

Every single time.

It started during the morning presentation when she glanced up from her laptop and found him already watching her from across the conference table.

Not subtle.

Not careful.

Just openly distracted.

Mia narrowed her eyes slightly in warning.

Alex didn’t even look guilty anymore.

That was the problem.

Daniel noticed first, unfortunately.

“Oh, this again,” he muttered dramatically while flipping through documents. “Can you two survive one meeting without staring at each other like a romance movie?”

Several people laughed immediately.

Mia pressed her lips together trying not to smile.

Alex leaned back lazily in his chair. “You’re exaggerating.”

“No,” Rhea answered instantly. “He’s actually being generous.”

Mia buried her face briefly in her hands.

“This office is hostile.”

“You made it hostile,” Daniel replied. “You flirt through eye contact alone.”

Alex looked thoughtful for half a second.

“That’s fair.”

Mia kicked him lightly under the table.

His mouth curved slowly after that.

God.

The rest of the morning only got worse.

Every hallway encounter felt charged.

Every accidental touch lingered too long.

At one point Alex stopped beside her desk while discussing something completely work-related, but his fingers brushed lightly against the back of her chair as he leaned closer.

Tiny movement.

Massive effect.

Mia lost track of what he was saying halfway through the sentence.

He noticed immediately.

And looked deeply pleased with himself.

By lunch, she was ready to physically fight him.

Unfortunately, he looked too attractive for violence.

Their team crowded around the cafeteria tables while conversations overlapped loudly around them.

Mia sat beside Alex.

Huge mistake.

Because he kept stealing food from her plate like it was his personal mission.

“That’s mine,” she complained while trying to pull her fries away.

“You weren’t eating them.”

“I was thinking about them.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“You’re a terrible person.”

“Still dating me though.”

Daniel pointed dramatically across the table. “See? This is why nobody believes you two behave professionally.”

“We do behave professionally,” Mia argued.

Alex stole another fry.

Rhea looked exhausted already. “You literally flirt while discussing potatoes.”

Mia glared at Alex.

He smiled without apology.

Absolute menace.

Later that afternoon, Mia escaped to the break room needing caffeine and emotional recovery.

Instead, she found Alex already there making coffee.

Sleeves rolled up again.

Which honestly felt intentional now.

“You look tired,” he murmured as she approached.

“You’re exhausting.”

“That sounds affectionate.”

“It’s criticism.”

He handed her coffee anyway.

Their fingers brushed briefly.

Warmth shot straight up her arm.

Alex’s gaze darkened instantly.

The room suddenly felt smaller.

“You’ve been staring at me all day,” Mia whispered.

“You noticed.”

“You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

That answer hit harder than it should have.

Mia looked away first.

Big mistake.

Because now she could feel him watching her even more.

“Stop that,” she muttered.

“Stop what?”

“The looking.”

His voice lowered slightly. “You like it.”

Unfortunately—

yes.

Before she could answer, two coworkers entered the room laughing loudly about something.

The moment snapped apart immediately.

Alex stepped back casually.

Mia stared into her coffee cup like it personally betrayed her.

By evening, the city outside glowed gold beneath fading sunlight.

Most employees had already left.

Alex found Mia near the elevators packing her bag slowly.

“You survived,” he observed.

“Barely.”

“That dramatic?”

“You spent eight hours psychologically attacking me.”

“I was existing.”

“Disrespectfully.”

That finally made him laugh.

“Come with me,” he said.

“Where?”

“Coffee.”

“We already had coffee.”

“Ice cream then.”

Mia narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You just want me alone.”

“Yes.”

At least he admitted it.

The café down the street smelled like espresso and sugar when they entered. Warm lights reflected softly across the windows while quiet music played overhead.

Mia sat across from him stirring melted ice cream absently.

Alex watched her for a moment before speaking.

“You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

She rolled her eyes.

Then looked at him carefully.

“You really don’t hide it anymore, do you?”

“What?”

“The way you look at me.”

Alex stayed silent briefly.

Then finally:

“No.”

The honesty in that single word settled heavily between them.

Mia felt warmth bloom low in her chest instantly.

Outside, evening traffic moved slowly beneath glowing streetlights while the city softened around them.

The drive home felt quieter.

Comfortable.

Familiar.

Mia rested her head briefly against the car window while Alex drove one-handed beside her.

Sometimes she caught him glancing over at red lights.

Still looking at her like that.

Still impossible.

Back at the apartment, the quiet between them felt different than before.

Not heavy.

Not awkward.

Just… aware.

Mia slipped into the bathroom first, taking her time more than necessary, as if she wasn’t fully ready to step back into the world outside their tension.

Alex changed in the bedroom, slower than usual too, like even small movements had become deliberate.

When he returned to the living room, he paused.

The air shifted immediately.

Mia stood near the chair where his shirt had been left earlier.

Now she was wearing it.

Only it.

The hem of Alex’s shirt riding high on her thighs, the fabric stretched taut across her breasts. The curve of her nipples pressed against the thin cotton, dark shadows hinting at the skin beneath. Alex’s gaze traced the line of her collarbone, the way the shirt hung loose on her shoulders, a temporary claim he hadn’t expected her to make.

“That’s mine,” he said, voice low, almost a growl.

Mia tilted her head, a slow smile playing on her lips. She ran her fingers along the collar of the shirt, deliberately grazing the top button. “I know. But I like it. If you want it back…” She stepped closer, close enough that he could smell the faint soap on her skin. “…you’ll have to take it from me.”

The challenge hung between them, electric. Alex’s jaw tightened, but his eyes darkened with something deeper—hunger. He reached out, fingers brushing the first button of the shirt. Mia didn’t flinch. She held his gaze as he undid it, one by one, the fabric parting to reveal the pale slope of her chest, the valley between her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach. When the last button slipped free, the shirt fell open, and she stood before him completely naked, the shirt hanging like an unzipped coat.

Her nipples were already peaked, her skin flushed with anticipation. Alex’s breath caught. His cock, already thickening in his pants, strained against the fabric, tenting visibly as it rose, pressing upward until the outline was unmistakable—a hard, eager ridge demanding attention.

Mia’s eyes dropped to the bulge, and she licked her lips. “Seems like you’re not the only one who wants something.”

She stepped forward, her body brushing against his, the heat of her skin seeping through his clothes. Without a word, she lowered herself, sinking to her knees, but instead of reaching for his zipper, she pressed her bare pussy against the swollen line of his cock through his pants. The fabric was rough, a barrier that only heightened the friction. She ground against him slowly, deliberately, her wetness soaking through the cloth, leaving a dark stain. No penetration—just the slick slide of her lips over the rigid shape, a teasing promise.

Alex groaned, his hands finding her shoulders, gripping as she moved. “Fuck, Mia…”

She looked up, eyes gleaming. “You want more?”

He could only nod.

Her fingers found the zipper of his pants, pulling it down with a metallic hiss. She reached inside, her hand wrapping around his cock—hot, thick, pulsing. She squeezed gently, then began to rub up and down, her thumb circling the tip, spreading the bead of moisture that had already formed. The sound of her hand moving over his shaft, wet and rhythmic, filled the room.

“Lie down,” she commanded, her voice soft but firm.

Alex didn’t hesitate. He backed onto the couch, sprawling across the cushions, his cock standing upright, slick and ready. Mia climbed over him, straddling his hips, but she didn’t lower herself onto him. Instead, she positioned her pussy directly above his cock, the lips of her sex parting to graze the head. She rocked forward and back, the length of him sliding between her folds, the wet heat of her pussy lips enveloping him without allowing entry. The sensation was maddening—her clit dragging against his shaft, the tip nudging her entrance before pulling away.

Her breath came in short gasps, her movements growing faster, more desperate. The couch creaked beneath them. “Not yet,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

“Not yet.”

Minutes passed like hours. Finally, she slid off, her thighs glistening with her own arousal. “Your turn.”

Alex stood, his cock still hard, still glistening. Mia lay back on the couch, legs spread, her pussy open and inviting. He knelt beside her, then took his cock in his own hand, guiding it to her slit. He didn’t enter her—not yet. Instead, he pressed the head against her clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles, then sliding it down the length of her slit, back and forth, the friction building. Her hips bucked, her fingers digging into the cushions.

“Yes… like that…” she moaned.

He kept up the rhythm, his cock sliding over her slick flesh, teasing her entrance, slipping along her lips, the head catching on her clit with every forward stroke. Her legs quivered, her moans becoming sharp, frantic. He could feel her tension building, the way her pussy clenched around nothing, desperate for him.

And then he felt it—the surge, the unstoppable wave. His cock jerked in his hand, and a thick stream of cum erupted, hitting her thigh first—warm, white, streaking down her skin. Another pulse, and another—splashing across her belly, her chest, finally landing on her breasts. He kept rubbing, his cock pulsing against her pussy, painting her body with each hot burst until she was covered, her skin glistening with his release.

She lay there, breathless, the cum cooling on her thighs, her chest, her stomach. Her fingers traced a line through the mess, bringing a drop to her lips. She smiled, lazy and satisfied.

“You still want it back?” she murmured teasingly.

Alex looked at her for one long second.

Then kissed her harder.

The room slowly fell quiet again.

Not instantly.

Not cleanly.

Like the world had to catch up after them.

Mia stayed close for a moment longer than necessary, her breathing still uneven, fingers loosely gripping his shirt like she had forgotten she was wearing it.

Alex didn’t move away either.

Not immediately.

Just stayed there, forehead briefly resting near hers, as if both of them needed a second to remember where the line between them had been earlier.

Then reality returned in small pieces.

A shift of weight.

A breath.

A faint, quiet laugh from Mia that had no real reason behind it except disbelief.

“You’re distracted,” she murmured.

Alex exhaled once, almost amused. “So are you.”

That earned him a look.

Not a warning this time.

Something softer.

Like agreement she didn’t want to admit out loud.

Mia adjusted the shirt slightly, still wearing it, still clearly refusing to give it back.

Alex noticed.

Of course he did.

But he didn’t reach for it this time.

Instead, he just leaned back slightly, studying her like the moment had changed shape in his mind.

Less challenge now.

More certainty.

“You still stealing my things?” he asked quietly.

Mia smiled faintly. “You let me.”

That landed between them more seriously than it sounded.

Silence followed again—but this one was different.

Comfortable.

Settled.

Alex eventually reached out, not to take the shirt, but to fix it where it had slipped slightly off her shoulder.

Small gesture.

Strangely intimate in its normality.

“You’re impossible,” he said under his breath—not frustrated, just certain.

Mia leaned into him slightly. “You like it.”

This time, he didn’t argue.

And that was the answer.