And that was when the atmosphere changed.
Xander didn't smile. He didn't even blink. He simply started walking—no, closing in—on her, one step at a time, like a predator that had finally found an opening. Erin's pulse began to thud heavily in her ears, her throat tightening as instinct whispered that this was no longer the teasing banter they often exchanged. This… this was charged.
"Do you want me?" Xander asked.
The question came like a blade—clean, deliberate, and piercing. Erin's mind went blank.
Her body reacted before her thoughts could form, backing up a step.
Then another.
And another.
Until her back hit the cold surface of the wall with a soft thud.
Her breath caught in her chest as Xander didn't stop. He kept walking until he was in front of her, his arms lifting slowly—deliberately—until they caged her in on both sides. One palm pressed beside her head. The other hovered lazily above her shoulder. He wasn't touching her, not yet, but the warmth of his presence wrapped around her like a slow-burning fire.
Her body was practically humming under the weight of his closeness.
"You didn't answer me," he murmured, his voice low and unhurried. "Do you want me?"
Erin opened her mouth, but the words tangled in her throat.
Her gaze flicked to his. And that was when she saw it—that look.
That same devastatingly intense look he'd worn that night in the hallway when he found her with Tenet. That dangerous gleam of unspoken desire. It burned behind his eyes now, restrained but alive, licking through the shadows between them.
"I…" she finally managed to whisper, but it came out more like a plea for clarity than an actual response.
Her brain screamed for her to stay sharp, to remember her mission, to focus—but her body, traitorous as ever, had leaned in. She could feel the heat radiating off of him. His scent was maddening. Clean, masculine, spiced with something sharp and expensive she couldn't name.
Her fingers curled into her palms at her sides.
"What… what are you doing?" she asked breathlessly, trying—desperately—to sound firm. Her voice betrayed her with its unsteadiness.
But Xander only tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping to her lips for one quiet, charged second before returning to her eyes.
"You said you wouldn't lie," he said simply, as if that explained everything.
And it did.
She had said it. And Xander wasn't going to waste a second.
"So I'm asking my first question," he added, his tone soft but unwavering. "And I want you to answer honestly."
"Xander…" she warned—or tried to. His name sounded fragile on her tongue, like she didn't even know what she was asking him to stop.
Her eyes searched his face, and there it was again—that smirk. That signature, infuriating, cocky curve of his lips that made her want to punch him and kiss him in the same breath.
"Don't worry," he murmured, leaning in until his nose brushed hers. "I'll help you answer."
Erin's breath hitched. Her back was flat against the wall, her hands frozen at her sides, and her chest was rising and falling far too fast for her liking. She didn't know what he was going to do next, but she knew one thing for certain—
She couldn't lie.
Not anymore.
And he knew it.
——
Erin couldn't understand what was happening.
One second, she was holding her breath beneath the weight of his gaze—and the next, she was standing against the wall, trapped by Xander's arms. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, loud and wild, almost as if it were trying to drown out the question that still lingered between them:
Do you want me?
She should have said something. Should have answered immediately. But all she could do was look up at him, wide-eyed and silent.
And he was watching her.
Intently. Hungrily. Like he could see past her silence. Like he could taste the war happening inside her.
Finally, with a breath she didn't realize she was holding, she found her voice. "No."
But even to her own ears, it was unconvincing.
His lips quirked into a knowing smirk. "Really? That's not what your eyes just told me."
She flinched.
"I—" she started, flustered.
But he didn't push her.
He just stood there, leaning in slightly, eyes never leaving hers.
That was when she forced her spine to straighten. Her walls, shaken but not destroyed, came rushing up to protect her pride. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and she blurted the first thing that made her feel like she was back in control.
"What if I do want you?" she asked, eyes narrowing slightly. "Then what?"
It caught him off guard.
His smirk faltered. A flicker of something—surprise, maybe—passed through his expression.
And before he could say anything, she pushed off the wall and slipped from his cage of arms. Her bare feet padded across the floor as she made her way toward the door, hoping he wouldn't see the slight tremble in her hands.
But she didn't get far.
His arms wrapped around her from behind in one swift movement, halting her just a step away from freedom.
Her breath hitched.
"Then I'll return the favor," he whispered into her ear.
She froze. "Xander… what are you saying?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, his lips found the delicate slope of her neck. First, it was a soft, lingering kiss—so light it almost tickled. But it was enough to make her knees feel like they might give out. Then came another, firmer this time, followed by a slow suck that made her gasp.
Her hands clutched at his forearms instinctively.
"Xander," she breathed, as if saying his name might anchor her.
He groaned.
The sound vibrated against her skin, low and hungry. And then he said it, voice thick and dark:
"Say my name again. I want it to be the next thing you moan."
Her brain screamed at her to push him away. To move. To run.
But her body didn't listen.
If anything, she leaned back into him. Gave in to the warmth of his chest, the strength in his arms, the sinful softness of his mouth on her skin.
"You're not even fighting me," he murmured against her pulse. "That tells me everything."
Erin didn't respond. She couldn't.
Because her mouth had gone dry. Because her thoughts were in chaos.
She felt herself being turned gently, guided backward until the backs of her knees touched the edge of the bed. Then he sat, pulling her down with him, until she was between his legs and resting against his chest.
He didn't speak.
He just began kissing her neck again, slower this time, but deeper. His tongue soothed the places he had sucked, and she arched slightly into the sensation.
She should have stopped this.
She knew she should have.
But she didn't.
Because in that moment, wrapped in his arms and drowning in the heat of his mouth, she didn't want to lie.
Not to him.
Not to herself.
Not tonight.