The day had barely begun, and Erin was already on a mission: avoid Xander at all costs.
At breakfast, she made sure to sit on the far end of the table. She didn't look up when he walked in, didn't respond when he greeted her. She focused all her energy on her plate, barely even tasting the food as she chewed.
In the office, she kept her responses clipped and professional, her eyes never lingering too long, her footsteps always leading away from wherever he might be. She buried herself in work — checking inventory, organizing documents, drafting reports. Anything to keep her from thinking about the night before.
About the way he'd kissed her.
About how she'd kissed him back.
She told herself it was just the wine. The heat of the moment. The tension snapping after building up for far too long. It meant nothing. It had to mean nothing.
And yet… the ghost of that kiss still lingered on her lips.
By the time the day ended, she'd managed to convince herself that she was doing a good job avoiding him — that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't noticed.
She was wrong.
As she entered his office to gather his things so they could leave, her focus was entirely on her task. She didn't notice the way the shadows shifted, the quiet footsteps that didn't echo. She was reaching for his files when suddenly —
Thump.
Two strong arms caged her in.
She froze.
Xander leaned against the wall behind her, his arms braced on either side, trapping her in place. His face was close. Too close. She could feel the warmth radiating off him.
"Why are you avoiding me?" he asked, his voice low, almost lazy.
Her breath caught. "I'm not," she replied quickly, too quickly.
He gave a grin — slow, knowing, dangerous. "Really?"
She didn't answer.
His gaze dropped to her lips for a split second before returning to her eyes. "You've been running away from me all day."
"I've been busy."
He raised a brow. "Busy avoiding me?"
Erin didn't respond, and the silence stretched.
Then, he tilted his head slightly and murmured, "Did you like it?"
Her heart thudded against her ribs. "What?"
"The kiss."
Still, no answer.
"Let me help you clarify," he said, his tone turning wickedly calm.
Before she could react, he leaned in and kissed her.
This wasn't like the one from the night of the celebration — that kiss had been wild, impulsive, public. This one… this was deliberate. Slow at first, as if savoring every second. Then harder, deeper, with a hunger he didn't bother hiding.
His hand moved up to cup her cheek, holding her firmly in place.
And Erin… didn't resist.
She responded with equal heat, her hands gripping the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as if she'd fall if she let go. Her heart felt like it was trying to break free from her chest, but she couldn't stop. Didn't want to.
The world around them blurred — she couldn't hear anything beyond the pounding in her ears. She didn't care that they were still in his office. That the door wasn't locked.
It didn't matter.
Not until—
Clatter.
A loud thud snapped them out of the moment. They both turned toward the door — and froze.
Cassian stood frozen, his expression halfway between disbelief and secondhand embarrassment. Behind him, Cole's mouth had dropped open. In his shock, Cassian had dropped the folder he'd been holding, scattering papers across the floor.
Erin immediately tried to back away, but Xander didn't let her. He had stopped the kiss, yes — but he hadn't released her. One arm stayed firmly around her waist, anchoring her to him as his chest rose and fell with the same fast breaths she was trying to hide.
Cassian cleared his throat — loudly.
Cole started to say something, his lips parting—until Cassian grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of the room like a bodyguard on damage control.
The door clicked shut.
The silence they left behind was deafening.
Xander didn't move.
Neither did Erin.
Her fingers were still tangled in his shirt.
Erin made another attempt to wriggle out of his hold, but Xander didn't budge. His arms remained around her, firm and steady. His gaze softened, but he wasn't letting her run—not this time.
She finally gave up, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, her face still burning from the interruption. She turned her face away, biting her lip, avoiding his eyes, but the moment he let go, she darted toward the door, desperate to escape the mortification tightening around her like a noose.
"Erin."
His voice was low—firm—but not angry. She didn't stop.
"Don't," he said again, more gently this time. "You're not running away from this."
She froze at the doorway. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and without another word, he reached for her hand. His fingers wrapped around hers, warm and steady. Despite everything, she didn't pull away. Maybe because she didn't want to. Maybe because part of her still needed that anchor, that stupid, comforting grip that was driving her insane.
They walked down together in silence.
The car was already waiting outside. The night air was cool, but the tension between them was hotter than ever—unspoken words, feelings clawing their way out of control. Erin stepped toward the car door, but before she could open it, Xander turned her gently toward him.
"You're really going to pretend that didn't happen?" he asked.
Her throat tightened. "It was just a mistake," she murmured. "Like the first one."
He narrowed his eyes, half a smirk tugging at his lips. "A mistake you didn't stop. Again."
Erin looked away. "You were the one who—"
"But you didn't pull away." He stepped closer. "Not until it got too real."
She opened her mouth, but no words came.
Xander leaned his shoulder against the car, arms crossed. His voice dropped, softer this time. "You keep trying to convince yourself you don't want this, but you do. We both do."
She swallowed hard, every muscle in her body taut. The worst part? He wasn't wrong. And she hated that.
"I know you're scared. I am too," he said. "But this isn't going away, Erin."
When she didn't answer, he sighed, pulling the car door open for her. "Ten days."
She blinked, confused. "What?"
"Ten days," he repeated. "If in ten days, this thing—whatever it is—still hasn't gone away… we stop pretending. We stop running."
Her breath caught.
"And if it does?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Then we'll know it was just the heat of the moment. And we walk away," he said. "No questions. No regrets."
She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding. Then she nodded. "Fine. Ten days."
They both climbed into the car, the air thick with everything unspoken. Neither of them looked at the other, both convincing themselves it was just a fleeting impulse. Just adrenaline. Just confusion.
Ten days.
They'd both be back to normal in ten days.
Wouldn't they?