He studied her for a moment, that familiar look in his eyes — the one that always made her feel like he could see through every version of her.
"Which of you am I speaking with?" he asked quietly.
Zara leaned back slightly in her chair, crossing one leg over the other.
"You tell me," she replied calmly.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
"Still doing that," he said.
"Doing what?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Answering questions with another question."
"That depends," she replied smoothly, "on whether the question deserves a real answer."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It never was with him.
He glanced around her office briefly before his gaze returned to her.
"You didn't seem surprised to see me tonight," he said.
"I was surprised," she admitted, "I just didn't show it."
"That's new," he noted.
"No," Zara replied calmly. "You just forgot."
His smile faded slightly, replaced by something more thoughtful.
"You're different," he said.
"I'd hope so," she said, her voice steady. "It's been years."
He pushed himself away from the desk he'd been leaning on, stepping closer.
"And yet," he said quietly, "you still look at me the same way."
Zara arched a brow.
"And how is that?" she asked.
"Like you're deciding whether I'm a problem," he murmured.
Her lips curved faintly.
"You usually are," she said.
That earned a soft laugh from him.
The tension in the room shifted then — subtle, but noticeable.
Finally, he straightened.
"Come on," he said. "I'll take you home."
Zara blinked once.
"You don't have to," she replied, frowning slightly.
"I know," he said.
"I drove here," she added, crossing her arms.
"I know that too," he said, tilting his head slightly.
"So why exactly are you insisting?" she asked.
He shrugged lightly.
"Because I want to."
"That's not a good reason," she said, voice steady.
"It's the only one you're getting," he said softly.
Zara studied him for a moment before letting out a small breath.
"You're still stubborn," she murmured.
"And you're still pretending you don't like it," he teased.
She rolled her eyes but reached for her bag anyway.
The drive was quieter than she expected. City lights blurred past the windows as he navigated the streets with the same easy confidence she remembered.
Zara leaned her head lightly against the seat, watching the passing lights.
"You're very quiet," he said after a while.
"I'm thinking," she replied.
"That's dangerous," he noted.
"For you or for me?" she asked.
"Both," he said with a quiet smirk.
She huffed a laugh.
When they finally pulled up outside her apartment building, she reached for the door handle.
"You didn't have to do this," she said softly.
"I know," he replied.
She stepped out of the car, but before she could reach the building entrance, she heard his door close behind her.
Zara turned. He was walking toward her.
"You're not leaving?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Not yet," he said calmly.
She crossed her arms.
"I didn't ask you to come in," she said.
"You didn't ask me to drive you either," he reminded her.
"That's different," she said, shaking her head slightly.
"How?" he asked, stepping closer.
She opened her mouth to argue — then stopped. He was already close now, close enough that she could see the faint amusement in his eyes.
"You're still trying to control everything," he said quietly.
"And you're still ignoring boundaries," she replied.
"Only yours," he said softly.
For a moment, they just stood there, the air between them thick with something neither of them bothered to name.
Then Zara shook her head slightly.
"You're impossible," she murmured.
"And yet," he said softly, "you didn't tell me to leave."
She looked at him for a long second before turning and unlocking the door.
"Five minutes," she said.
He smiled as he followed her inside. The door clicked shut behind them.
Zara set her bag down on the table and turned back toward him.
"You know," she said calmly, "one day your luck is going to run out."
"Maybe," he replied, stepping closer.
"But not tonight."
She should have stepped away. Instead, she didn't move.
The space between them disappeared slowly.
"You're trouble," she murmured.
"You knew that already," he said, brushing her arm with his hand.
Zara grabbed the front of his shirt before she could think twice about it and pulled him down into a kiss.
His hand moved to the small of her back, drawing her closer as their lips met with a familiar hunger, soft at first and then deeper, more demanding. She pressed herself against him, feeling the warmth radiate through every nerve.
His lips traced her jawline, down to her neck, eliciting a quiet gasp from her. She tilted her head, giving him better access, letting the world fade away around them.
"Zara," he murmured against her skin, his voice rough and low, "you've been driving me crazy all day."
"Maybe that's the point," she teased breathlessly, her fingers threading through his hair.
He groaned softly, pulling her closer. Their bodies molded together like they had been made for this, every touch familiar yet electrifying. Hands roamed with intention, exploring, reminding them both of years of memory and longing.
She pressed her forehead against his, breath mingling with his, feeling the intensity spike between them.
"Not tonight," she whispered, smiling against his lips.
"Not tonight?" he echoed, a hint of playful challenge in his tone.
"Not yet," she corrected, her hands clutching his shirt, holding him just close enough to know she wasn't letting go.
Every kiss, every touch, every whispered word pulled them further into the quiet storm of desire they had always shared.
Later, the apartment had fallen quiet. City lights spilled faintly through the curtains, painting soft shadows across the room.
Zara lay on her back, one arm draped lazily over her eyes, her breathing finally steady again.
Beside her, he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow as he watched her.
"You're staring," she said without moving.
"Someone has to," he replied.
She lowered her arm just enough to look at him.
"You've seen me before," she murmured.
"Not like this in a while," he said softly.
A small smirk touched her lips, though her eyes remained calm.
"Don't start getting sentimental," she said. "You know the rules."
"I know the rules," he said quietly, but he didn't look convinced.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them wasn't awkward — it was the familiar kind that came after years of knowing someone too well.
He reached for her wrist absentmindedly, tracing slow circles with his thumb.
"You know," he said after a while, "one day you're going to run out of ways to avoid answering me."
Zara tilted her head toward him.
"About what?" she asked.
"You know exactly what," he said softly.
She studied his face for a second before gently pulling her hand away.
"You're thinking too much tonight," she said.
"And you're not thinking enough," he teased.
That earned him a quiet laugh.
"See?" she said softly. "This is why I don't define things with you."
He leaned back against the headboard, shaking his head slightly.
"You're impossible," he said.
"And yet," she murmured, stretching lazily against the pillow, "you keep showing up."
Before he could answer—
Knock.
Both of them froze. The sound was clear this time. Another knock echoed through the apartment.
Zara frowned slightly, pushing herself up.
"I wasn't expecting anyone," she said.
He was already watching the door. Neither of them moved.