Chapter 16:Bent By My Rival

Nadia pushed open the lab door at 6:45 exactly. The quiet was supposed to be hers. The clean workstations, the ordered tools, the space where she could think without anyone breathing down her neck.

Jonah was already there.

Of course he fucking was.

His side of the lab looked like a bomb went off. Schematics everywhere. Three half-empty coffee cups. That damn prototype arm joint scattered across his desk like it was mid-surgery. And his equipment cart — her equipment cart — had been shoved six inches into her territory.

She didn’t say good morning. Neither did he.

She walked straight to the cart and dragged it back. Precisely six inches. The wheels squeaked loud in the quiet lab.

Jonah looked up. His eyes tracked her movement. Lingered on her ass as she bent slightly to adjust it. She felt it. That slow, heavy stare. Heat crawled up her spine and settled low in her belly.

She straightened fast. “It was in my space.”

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. That stupid half-smirk on his face. “Six inches, Nadia. Relax.”

Hearing her name in his mouth did something stupid to her body. She ignored it. Turned to her workstation and started booting up her system like he wasn’t even there.

It lasted maybe twenty minutes.

The ventilation. He bumped it to 71. She bumped it back to 68 without a word. He changed it again. She changed it back. Every time their eyes met across the lab the air got thicker.

“You run warm,” she said finally, not looking at him.

“You’re obsessive,” he shot back.

They kept working. Or pretending to. But she was aware of him. Every shift in his chair. Every time he ran his hand through his hair. The way his shirt stretched across his shoulders when he reached for something. Two years of this bullshit rivalry and she still noticed everything.

Around 10am they both reached for the same calibration probe at the exact same time.

Their hands collided.

Nadia froze. His fingers were warm. Rough from actual work. Heat shot straight down her body. Her nipples tightened instantly against her bra. A rush of wetness hit between her legs so fast she had to press her thighs together under the desk.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Jonah didn’t pull away right away either. His eyes dropped to her chest for half a second — just long enough for her to know he saw. When he finally moved his hand, she caught the way his pants had gotten tighter in the front.

He noticed her noticing.

Neither of them said a word.

The day dragged on like that. Charged. Every little argument felt like foreplay. The way he leaned over her shoulder to look at her screen once and she could smell his skin. The way she brushed past him to get a tool and her hip grazed his thigh. Every touch left her more on edge. Wetter. Angrier. Aching.

By 11pm they’d been in the lab for sixteen hours. Her shoulders hurt. Her focus was shot. She started packing up, movements sharp.

Jonah was still working, headphones half on, watching the prototype joint move in smooth, elegant arcs on his screen.

She headed for the door.

“Goodnight, Nadia.”

His voice was low. Rough. The way he said her name hit her straight between the legs again. She stopped in the doorway, back to him, breathing harder than the walk justified.

She didn’t answer. Just kept walking.

Three steps down the corridor she heard the ventilation unit click. She pulled out her phone and checked the lab monitor app.

68°F.

He’d changed it back.

Nadia stood there in the empty hallway, thighs clenched tight, heart hammering, pussy throbbing with two years of frustration and want she refused to name.

God, this is insane.

She was so fucked.