The office air feels thick with unspoken tension as I gather my things to leave. It's been another excruciating day of pretending I don't feel Du Ziyu's eyes on me across the conference table. As I reach for my jacket, her voice stops me in my tracks.

"Lei Xu, could you stay a moment? I need to discuss the Zhang case files with you."

My heart pounds against my ribs as I turn to face her. The way the evening light catches her hair, the slight furrow between her brows when she's concentrating—after all these years, she still has the power to make my breath catch in my throat. I notice the half-empty coconut water on her desk, a habit she never outgrew.

"Sure," I manage to reply, my voice slightly higher than normal. I close the door behind me, suddenly acutely aware that we're alone in the office. Her desk seems to shrink between us as she stands, moving closer than necessary to point something out in the files. I can smell her perfume, that same subtle coconut scent that used to drive me wild in college.

Her fingers brush mine as she turns the page, and I suppress a shudder. The familiar ache between my legs begins to build—a constant reminder of exactly what I've been missing. When she leans over the desk, the neckline of her blouse gapes slightly, and I catch a glimpse of the skin I used to kiss. I can feel myself growing hard, my body betraying my professional composure.

She must notice my distraction because she pauses, her eyes meeting mine with that same intensity that used to make me lose control. The air crackles between us, thick with years of unspoken longing and regret. The rational part of my mind screams about professionalism, about boundaries—but every other part of me remembers exactly how she tastes, how she sounds when she comes.

"Is something wrong?" she asks softly, her head tilting slightly in that way I remember so well.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. This is the moment I've both dreaded and fantasized about for years.