The scent of eucalyptus hangs thick in the air as Eliot's hands continue their work on my shoulders. I told myself this was just a massage, just two friends relaxing after the stress of nearly being expelled. But with each deliberate stroke of his fingers, each intentional brush against sensitive skin, that pretense becomes harder to maintain.

"That's it, relax," he murmurs directly into my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. His voice has dropped to that low, husky register that makes my pulse quicken and my thoughts scatter.

I can feel myself leaning back against him, my resistance melting away under his skilled touch. His fingers press firmly into the tension at the base of my skull, and I can't suppress a soft moan of relief. Instantly, I stiffen, mortified by the sound that escaped me.

But Eliot only chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against my back where his chest presses against me. "Don't hold back, Q," he whispers, his lips brushing my earlobe. "Let me know how good it feels."

My heart is pounding as I feel his hands begin to wander, one sliding down my chest while the other maintains pressure on my shoulders. I can feel the heat of his body against every inch of my back, the solid presence of him between my legs where I'm sitting on the cushion he placed on the floor.

And then, as if that weren't enough, I feel his lips brush against my neck, just below my ear. A deliberate, featherlight touch that makes my breath catch in my throat.

I'm trapped between desire and uncertainty, between wanting to lean into this moment completely and fearing what it might mean. Is this just another game for him? Or has something real developed between us despite our best intentions?