Madison held his gaze for a heartbeat longer, the tension between them coiled tight like a spring, before she finally broke the spell. She turned toward the cabinet, her movements fluid and purposeful.
She reached for the two cups on the left side, exactly the side he had pointed out earlier, and poured the remaining coffee, dividing the dark liquid with a precision that felt almost ritualistic.
"You're doing that," Mike said, his voice a low, observant rumble.
He was tracking her every move, fascinated by the way she was beginning to integrate his presence into her own rhythm.
"Dividing the coffee," she replied, her tone dry but not unkind. "Yes... That is precisely what is happening."
"You didn't have to," he countered, leaning back, his eyes tracing the line of her neck as she turned back to him.
He was testing her, pushing against the boundaries of her perceived independence.
"I know," she said.
