Crumbled

The smell of grilled steak and roasted vegetables filled Hank's office as Sarah pushed open the door with her hip, two takeout containers balanced carefully in her hands. She’d timed it perfectly—just before lunch, when she knew Hank's stomach would be growling, even if his mind was too consumed with frustration and exhaustion to notice.

"Hey, boss," she purred softly, her smile warm but laced with just enough concern to make it clear she wasn't here just for work, "I thought you might be hungry."

Hank looked up from his desk, his eyes heavy with the weight of a sleepless night. He looked… wrecked. His usually crisp white dress shirt was slightly wrinkled, his tie loosened, and his five o'clock shadow had darkened into something rougher. But it was his eyes that gave him away—tired, distant, defeated.

Perfect.

"You didn’t have to do that," Hank murmured, but there was no real resistance in his voice.

"I know," Sarah placed the containers on the desk, her movements smooth and confident, her curves accentuated by the fitted pencil skirt hugging her hips. She took the seat across from him, crossing her long legs slowly, giving him an unobstructed view, "But I wanted to."

She opened one container, revealing a perfectly grilled sirloin with roasted asparagus and garlic mashed potatoes. His favourite. The other container held a grilled chicken salad, which she made a point of pushing to her side of the desk.

"Come on, Hank," Her voice was soft, coaxing, "You need to eat. Whatever's going on… it's not going to get better if you're running on fumes."

Hank's jaw clenched. His eyes were locked on her own, as if he was calculating a path forward, considering his future. After a moment, though, he reached for the fork.

Hook, line, and sinker.

They ate in silence for a while, the quiet broken only by the occasional scrape of a fork against the container. Sarah didn't push—not yet. She let the silence stretch, giving Hank the space to let his guard down. Which it would. She was confident of that.

Her eyes stayed on him during the meal. An outside observer would see compassion, caring in her expression, but inside she was on a mission. A hunter waiting for her moment to make the kill.

"Hank," she murmured finally, wanting to make her move. She kept her tone soft, she allowed her eyes to drop to the floor meekly, "I can tell something's wrong."

Nothing.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don’t want to..." She let her voice trail off, adding just enough vulnerability to make it seem like she was giving him an out, "...but if you do I think you'll feel better."

Silence.

For a moment, Sarah wondered if she'd miscalculated. Had she pushed too hard? Too fast? Was Hank not ready for this?

But then...

"Donna knows," his voice was rough, barely above a whisper, "About, you know, when you kissed me."

Gotcha.

Sarah's eyes widened just enough to look surprised but not overly shocked. "Oh, Hank..." her hand fluttered to her chest as if she could feel his pain. "I... I didn't mean to cause any trouble between you two. I was just so..."

"It's not just that," his voice was bitter now, and that bitterness was her opening, "All week she's been cold. You, me, what happened, I don't know. She's so distant. Like she's already decided..." He trailed off, but the unspoken words hung in the air.

Sarah's heart pounded with anticipation. She leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the desk, her eyes locking onto his. "Hank... that's not fair. You're a good man. What happened between us, that was all me. I could talk to her, I could try to get her to see how good she has it with you."

The words came out softly, but Sarah made sure they landed with the weight of conviction. She let them hang in the air for a moment, watching as Hank's jaw clenched.

"I've worked for you long enough to know what kind of man you are," her hand drifted across the desk, her fingers brushing lightly over his, "You give so much. You deserve so much more. Please, let me help."

Hank's eyes moved to her hand, then moved up to her face. She could see it. He was lost, confused. Hurt.

****.

"Donna doesn't see what she has," Sarah's voice dropped lower, more intimate, "She's a fool."

Pause. Let him feel it.

"Any woman would kill to have a man like you. Any woman." Her lips parted slightly, her eyes flickering to his mouth for a heartbeat before returning to his gaze. "I know I would."

Hank's resolve cracked, just for a moment. It took everything in her to hold back a smile, knowing that she was so close to the breakthrough she'd been working on for so long. His shoulders shifted, he let go of his fork, leaned back, and looked up at the ceiling.

"Maybe," his voice was hesitant, "Maybe I haven't been what she needed. Maybe there's something I could do, or stop doing. Maybe it's me."

"No," The word was firm, cutting through his doubt like a blade. Sarah stood, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she moved around the desk, her hips swaying just enough to remind him exactly what was standing in front of him.

"Hank, just... don't," she knelt in front of him, her knees brushing against his legs as she took his hands in hers. Her touch was warm, grounding, her green eyes locking onto his with unshakable intensity.

"You're a good man," her thumbs brushed over the backs of his hands, her voice soft but unwavering, "you've always done what's right. I've seen you with her. If anyone is at fault, it's her. She doesn't appreciate you. She's the one pushing you away. And she doesn't even realize what she's losing."

Hank's breathing slowed. His eyes searched hers, and Sarah saw it—the moment his defenses finally crumbled.

"Sarah..."

Her name was a whisper on his lips.

"Hank..." Her voice mirrored his as she craned her neck up, leaning forward, her lips so close now, her breath mingling with his.

And then it happened.

Their lips brushed, tentative at first. A featherlight touch—barely there—but it sent a ripple of heat straight down Sarah's spine. Soft. Almost hesitant. As if Hank was still fighting himself, still holding on to the last threads of restraint.

But neither of them pulled away.

Sarah could feel the moment his resolve shattered, the tension in his body shifting, giving way to something deeper.

Need.

She took the lead, her lips pressing more firmly against his. A low hum of satisfaction vibrated in her throat as she angled her head, deepening the kiss. Her hands slid up, her fingers brushing along the rough stubble on his jaw before cupping his face. His skin was warm beneath her touch, and the heat that radiated from him made her pulse quicken.

Hank's breath hitched, and that was all the encouragement Sarah needed.

She pressed closer, her body molding against his. Her breasts brushed lightly against his chest, her curves pressing into him as the kiss intensified. His mouth moved against hers now, no longer hesitant—hungry.

Hank's hands came to life, one sliding around her waist, the other trailing up her back.

God, yes.

Sarah's skin tingled beneath his touch, her body arching instinctively into him. She felt the strength in his hands, the quiet dominance that had always been just beneath the surface. But now... now it was surfacing, and Sarah wanted more.

His hand splayed against her lower back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Their bodies fit together perfectly—his broad chest pressing against her soft curves, her thighs brushing against his as she shifted on her knees.

But it wasn't enough.

Not nearly enough.

Sarah needed more.

She broke the kiss for a fraction of a second, her breath mingling with his as she whispered, "Hank..." Her voice was husky, laced with desire, her green eyes heavy-lidded as they searched his. "Let me..."

Her lips found his again, and this time, there was nothing tentative about it.

She kissed him like she meant to devour him.

Sarah's body shifted as she swung one leg over his, straddling him, her skirt sliding up her thighs as she settled onto his lap, his hot manhood pressing into her, encouraging her to go on. His hands instinctively moved to her hips, his grip tightening as if he was trying to anchor himself—but Sarah wasn’t about to let him hold back.

"I'm right here..." she murmured against his lips, her voice barely above a whisper, "I've got you."

Her tongue brushed against his lower lip, coaxing him deeper, and Hank gave in.

Completely.

His mouth claimed hers, the kiss growing hotter, more ****. His hands slid up her back, fingers tangling in her long, dark hair as he tilted her head, taking control of the kiss. The heat between them was electric now—unstoppable.

Sarah felt the hunger in him, the frustration, the need that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long.

And she fed it.

Her body moved against his, her hips shifting slightly, eliciting a low groan from Hank's throat. The sound was raw, unguarded—a man giving in to temptation. A man finally acknowledging what he really wanted and taking it.

His grip on her hips tightened, pulling her even closer, pressing her against the growing hardness beneath her.

"God, Sarah..." his voice was rough, strained, barely holding on to control.

"Shhh..." she whispered against his lips, her breath hot as she kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jaw. "We can talk later."

She trailed her lips down his neck, her teeth grazing his skin just enough to make him shudder.

"Don't think. Just feel."

Hank's head tilted back slightly, giving her access as Sarah's mouth explored the curve of his neck. She kissed, nipped, and soothed the skin with her tongue, savoring the taste of him—masculine, warm, slightly salty from the tension that had built between them.

His hands roamed over her, sliding up her thighs, gripping her waist, holding her firmly in place as she rocked gently against him.

And Sarah knew…

He was hers now.

She lifted her head, her green eyes locking onto his with undeniable heat.

"You don't have to fight this, Hank," she murmured, her lips brushing against his again, softer this time, "I know what you need."

And then, just as his eyes darkened with unspoken desire, she kissed him again.

This kiss was slower, deeper— not a battle for dominance, but an invitation. A promise of everything she could give him.

Hank’s hands gripped her hips tighter, pulling her flush against him as he responded with equal intensity.

Sarah felt it in every fiber of her being.

The way his body responded to hers. The way his walls had crumbled.

He was no longer thinking about Donna.

No longer thinking at all.

He was thinking only of her.

Exactly where she wanted him.