Chapter 17:Bent By My Rival

Three weeks of this hell.

Three weeks of Jonah’s chaos bleeding into her space. Three weeks of pretending the taped line on the workbench still mattered. Three weeks of catching herself staring at his hands, his mouth, the way his jaw flexed when he was focused. Three weeks of going home wet and angry and touching herself in the shower while cursing his name.

Nadia was exhausted. And wired. And so fucking aware of him it made her want to scream.

It was 9pm on a Wednesday when her calibration sequence crashed again. Not a small glitch. A fundamental failure. Four months of work collapsing on her screen in red error messages. She sat there staring at it, fingers frozen on the keyboard, that familiar heavy stillness settling in her chest.

Jonah noticed. He always noticed.

“What broke?” he asked from across the lab. Not pushing. Just… there.

“Nothing,” she snapped. Voice too sharp.

He got up anyway. Crossed the taped line like it was nothing. Came to stand behind her chair. Close. Too close. She could feel the heat of his body against her back. His breath brushed the back of her neck when he leaned in to look at her screen.

Her stomach flipped. Hard. Heat pooled low and fast between her legs.

“Feedback loop,” he said quietly, pointing at the data. “It’s cycling too fast for the adaptive response.”

“I know what it is, Jonah.”

But she didn’t tell him to leave. She let him stay right there, chest almost touching her shoulder, looking at her work. His arm brushed hers as he reached for the mouse. Electric. She hated how much she noticed it.

He pulled up one of his old archived files on the shared drive. Showed her where he’d hit the same wall eight months ago. Different context. Same problem. His solution was elegant. Intuitive. Exactly what her rigid structure had been missing.

She read it in silence. Shoulder to shoulder now. The stool he pulled up put them so close she could smell his skin — coffee, metal, something warm that made her thighs press together under the desk.

“This is… good,” she admitted. The words felt like surrender.

“Took me three weeks,” he said. Voice low. “You’ll do it faster.”

She turned in her chair to look at him.

He was right there. Inches away. Eyes on her face, not the screen. Dark. Hungry. Two years of rivalry, sharp words, stolen glances, and pure fucking frustration finally snapped inside her chest.

She grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him.

Hard.

Hungry.

Years of pent-up everything poured out of her. Anger. Want. All of it. Her mouth crashed into his and he groaned, kissing her back like he’d been dying for it. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her up out of the chair and against him. She felt how hard he was through his pants. Thick. Pressed right against her stomach.

“Fuck, Nadia,” he breathed against her mouth. “Two years. Two fucking years.”

She didn’t answer with words. Just kissed him deeper, tongue sliding against his, hands fisting his shirt like she needed to hold on or she’d fall apart. Her body was on fire. Nipples aching. Pussy throbbing. Wet enough she could feel it soaking through her panties.

She broke the kiss suddenly. Dropped to her knees right there on the lab floor. Hands shaking as she yanked his belt open, shoved his pants down. His cock sprang free — thick, hard, leaking at the tip. She wrapped her hand around him and stroked once.

Jonah cursed, low and rough. “Nadia— baby— you don’t have to—”

“Shut up,” she whispered. Then took him in her mouth.

Messy. Desperate. No grace. She sucked him deep, moaning around his cock the second she tasted him. Gagging a little when he hit the back of her throat but not stopping. She wanted this. Needed it. Two years of wanting to shut his smug mouth and now she was doing it with her lips wrapped around him.

“Fuck— your mouth— so fucking good,” he groaned, hand gentle in her hair. Not pushing. Just holding. “Been dreaming about this. Every time we fought. Every damn time.”

She moaned louder around him, bobbing faster, sucking harder. Saliva dripped down her chin. Her eyes watered but she looked up at him anyway. Teary. Needy. Filthy. She wanted him to see her like this. Wanted him to lose it because of her.

Jonah’s hips jerked. His breathing was ragged. “Baby— I’m gonna— fuck, Nadia— I’m coming—”

She didn’t pull off. Took him deeper, moaning encouragement as he spilled down her throat. Hot. Thick. She swallowed every drop, sucking him through it until he was shaking and cursing her name.

When she finally pulled back, lips swollen, chin messy, she was breathing like she’d run ten miles. Her pussy ached. Empty. Desperate. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, still on her knees, looking up at him.

Jonah stared down at her like she’d broken something in him. Then he pulled her up fast, kissing her deep. Tasting himself on her tongue. Groaning into her mouth.

“This isn’t over,” he growled against her lips. Voice wrecked. “Not even close.”

Nadia nodded, forehead pressed to his, heart hammering so hard she felt dizzy. “I know.”

They were both still breathing hard. The lab hummed around them. The calibration sequence was running clean on her screen behind them, but neither of them looked at it.

Two years of fighting.

And they’d only just started.