CHAPTER 8

ARIA

The second my balance returned, reality crashed into me—loud, electric, unforgiving.

His face was pressed against my chest, and I felt the warm rush of his breath seeping through the thin fabric, each exhale searing my skin like a secret I shouldn’t be carrying.

My arms—God, when had they moved?—were wrapped tight around his shoulders, gripping him as if letting go meant I’d fall straight through the floor.

It wasn't choice. It was instinct.

"What am I doing?" The question screamed in my head as my legs trembled beneath me.

I should've pulled back. Should've let go.

I couldn't.

My mind stuttered between logic and need. I was a scientist. A professional. But none of that mattered when my hands refused to release him. Then I gasped—heat pressed through my shirt, sharp and undeniable. My fingers curled against his shoulders—solid, warm, real. Too real. Nothing about him felt like the subject I’d studied from a distance. He felt human… achingly, dangerously human.

His mouth. His teeth grazed the curve of my breast, sending fire beneath my skin.

He didn't move. Just stayed there, his face pressed into me like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he’d always belonged there.

And then—

I gasped, the sound breaking out of me before I could stop it. Heat pressed through the thin fabric of my shirt, sharp and undeniable. His mouth. Right there.

His teeth grazed the curve of my breast, just enough to make my body jolt with a rush of sensation that I wasn’t prepared for.

It wasn’t painful.

It was… something else entirely.

A flood of heat surged through me, spreading like wildfire beneath my skin.

My breath hitched, eyes wide, heart hammering so loudly I could barely hear the hum of the lab anymore.

"W-what are you doing?" My voice mixed curiosity with something I didn't want to name.

He pulled back, eyes dark and intense. "I can't help it. You're driving me wild."

"This is unprofessional." I barely managed a whisper. "Stop."

He pulled back, eyes dark and intense. "I can't help it. You're driving me wild."

"This is unprofessional." I barely managed a whisper. "Stop."

A slow shake of his head, hair falling across his forehead. "I need to feel you. To know this is real."

My hands curled into fists. "No." Sharp and clipped. "I'm not here to fulfill your needs. I'm here to do my job."

I stepped back, forcing space between us. "So stop wasting my time."

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes—hurt? Amusement? I didn't let myself linger on it.

You're a researcher. This is a test. Nothing more.

I reached down, fingers curling around him through fabric. Already hardening beneath my touch. My cheeks burned, but I forced my voice steady.

"This is nothing. Just data collection."

With a shaky breath, I forced my mind back to protocol, reaching down to wrap my fingers around his already hardening organ.

I stroked him with mechanical precision, trying to maintain clinical distance as I worked to collect another sample.

"See?" My voice trembled despite my efforts. "Understanding your condition. That's all."

He groaned, hips thrusting eagerly. "Data be damned. This feels too good."

His words sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between my thighs, my body betraying me with its traitorous responses.

I could feel the dampness, the ache, the insistent need that built with each stroke of my hand.

My pulse raced, a wild, erratic rhythm that matched the primal beat of his hips against my hand.

"Your body responds to mine, Aria," he said, his voice a low, seductive purr.

"You can't deny it. You can't deny this."

I shook my head, a desperate attempt to clear the haze of desire that clouded my mind.

"This is just biology," I insisted, but the words felt hollow.

His words shivered down my spine. I tried to focus on the task, on numbers and outcomes, but my attention kept slipping to his breathing, the way he tensed beneath my touch.

"I need to get to work," I whispered, more to myself than him.

My hand moved with practiced precision while his chest rose and fell rapidly against me. Every small movement sent jolts through my system, unraveling my carefully maintained control.

He was close now—I could tell by the way his breathing hitched, the tension in his muscles. Just a few more moments and this would be over. I could return to my lab, my samples, my safe world of data and analysis.

But then he spoke, voice rough with need: "Aria... there's something you need to know."

I looked up, startled by the sudden seriousness in his tone. His dark eyes held mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.

"What?" The word escaped before I could stop it.

His hand covered mine, stilling my movements. "The samples you've been collecting... they're not for research."

My blood turned to ice. "What do you mean?"

A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips. "Dr. Morrison never told you the real purpose, did he?"