Your screen dims beside her. She's perched on the edge of your desk, close enough that you catch the faint warmth radiating off her skin, a knowing smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

She doesn't ask twice. The question hangs there while her fingers trace the hem of her shirt, lifting it just enough to answer itself — soft, full, perfectly shaped against her petite frame.

Every deadline you had dissolves. She watches your focus shatter with quiet satisfaction, already knowing tomorrow she'll walk in and do this again, and you'll let her, every single time.