Good. Let her chew on that.
As I walk back to my seat, I can’t help but glance her way, giving her a subtle, knowing grin. I rose to her challenge, and I’m not about to let her forget it.
The hot waterdoes its job, washing away the sweat and grime from the day. I run a hand through my hair, letting the last drops trail down my face before shutting off the shower. Grabbing my towel, I wrap it around my waist and step out into the locker room.
And then I see her.
Amelia.
She stands there, arms crossed, her posture as commanding as ever, but her eyes… there is something unreadable in them.My steps falter for a second before I keep walking, heading toward the bench where my clothes are.
I ignore the way my pulse quickens and how the air feels just a little heavier with her in the room. Dropping my towel, I bend to grab my clothes from the bench, deliberately keeping my movements slow and steady, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. Because I am the last one in the locker room, I know we could go more rounds here without being caught.
I’ve barely straightened up when I feel it—the shift in the air, the faint sound of her heels clicking closer. She isn’t leaving.
My fingers pause as I grab my shirt, and I can feel her presence at my back now, close enough that I catch the faint scent of her perfume—something clean and sharp with the hint of lavender, just so her.
I straighten slowly, turning just enough to meet her gaze. Her expression is calm, almost too calm, but her eyes tell a different story.
I don’t move. Don’t speak. If she wants to close this distance, she is going to have to be the one to do it.
The tension between us is a live wire, humming and sparking in the small space. My heart is pounding, but I hold my ground, giving her nothing but a raised eyebrow and a slight tilt of my head.
She is testing me.
And damn it, I won’t be the one to break this time.
I tilt my head slightly, letting a smirk tug at the corner of my mouth as I meet her gaze head-on. She is close now—too close for someone who claims to want nothing but professional distance between us. Her eyes flicker, betraying just a hint of whatever storm is brewing behind them.
“What can I do for you, Commander?” I ask, my voice low, steady, and laced with just enough heat to remind her she is the one standing in my space after a few seconds of silence.
I watch her jaw tighten, the faintest hitch in her breath, before she schools her expression back into neutral. But that brief hesitation tells me everything I need to know.
She wants something—whether it’s to put me back in my place or pull me even closer, I’m not sure. Either way, I am not moving until she decides.
The silence stretches between us, thick and electric, as I casually drape my shirt over my shoulder, still standing there in nothing but a towel. Her eyes dip—just for a second—before snapping back up to mine.
I arch my brow, waiting.
“Well?” I prompt, my grin widening just enough to show I won’t make this easy for her. “I’m all ears.”
What the hell am I doing?
For the second time, I’ve gone looking for him. Not because I have to—there is no pressing matter, no urgent team issue that requires my attention. No, this is something else entirely, something I can’t even explain to myself.
And now here I am, standing in front of him, watching water trail down his chest, glistening in the dim locker room light.
Damn that body.
He doesn’t flinch when he sees me, doesn’t even seem fazed. Instead, he just stands there, towel slung low on his hips, his lips curling, like he knows exactly what he is doing to me.
And maybe he does.
Because I can’t tear my eyes away.
I tell myself to leave, to turn around and go before I make an even bigger fool of myself. But my feet don’t move. My brain screams at me to remember my rank, my authority, and the lines I’ve drawn so carefully between us.
But the way my body betrays me—the quickening of my pulse, the tightening in my chest—it’s as though none of that matters.
