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“Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I’m hungry,” he said quietly, still not looking away. “Are you… hungry?”
I nodded numbly, and he helped me to my feet, but instead of stepping away, he moved closer. There was barely an inch of space between us, the tension between us singing like a live wire, every touch sending shivers down my spine.
“Olivia,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “We need to talk about what’s happening here.”
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to maintain composure. “What do you mean?” My voice wavered, betraying my inner turmoil.
Alexander leaned against the wall. “I know what you said… that you didn’t want this.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. “But you can’t tell me you don’t feel this? You want to ignore everything over something as small as your job position?”
His words sliced through me like a knife, but I knew he was right. And yet our professional responsibilities had to come first. “I think it’s best,” I whispered, my gaze darting to the floor.
He sighed. “Fine,” he replied. “I’ll be strictly professional from now on.” His voice was firm, but I detected a hint of sadness beneath the resolve.
“Agreed,” I said, though I ached at the thought of suppressing the fire that burned within me.
Chapter Thirteen
Olivia
Alexander and I collapsed on the couches in the sitting room, finding a rare moment of respite from our demanding meetings. In the low light of the fading evening, his eyes seemed to hold a thousand secrets.
“Tell me something about yourself, Olivia,” he said, his voice inviting. “Something no one else knows.”
I hesitated for a moment. Swallowing hard, I decided to trust him with a piece of my past. “When I was younger, I used to sneak out at night to dance in the rain.”
Alexander’s lips curled into a genuine smile, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “That sounds incredibly liberating. What about now? Do you still dance in the rain?”
“Sadly, no,” I confessed, a pang of nostalgia washing over me. “But sometimes, when it rains, I am reminded of those moments.”
“Perhaps one day, you’ll find the courage to dance again,” he suggested, placing a gentle hand on my arm.
“Maybe,” I replied, allowing myself to lean into his comfort. “Your turn. Tell me something about you, something you haven’t shared with anyone.”
He took a deep breath, his fingers drumming against his thigh as he searched for the right words. “All right. When I was in college, I secretly dreamed of being a writer. A novelist, specifically. But my father had other plans, and I ended up in the corporate world instead.”
“Wow,” I responded, genuinely surprised by his admission. “I never would’ve guessed. Do you ever think about writing that novel?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted, his eyes distant as if envisioning a different path. “But I’ve learned to find fulfillment in other aspects of my life.”
The scent of Alexander’s cologne wrapped around me, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. I felt the urge to share more, to let him see the parts of me that few others had glimpsed.
His fingers tightened around mine, the intensity of our connection growing stronger with each passing moment. We sat there, our gazes locked, as the world around us faded into insignificance.
Alexander’s eyes roamed over my face, as if he was trying to memorize every curve and angle before committing it to heart.
“Fuck, I can’t take this,” he muttered so quietly I’m not sure I was supposed to hear it. “Can I…” he started, his voice barely a whisper, but it reverberated through me like thunder. “Can I touch you?”
My chest tightened, the desire making my skin tingle. Somehow, this felt more intimate than anything we had shared so far. “Yes,” I breathed out.
His fingertips traced along my collarbone, the pads of his fingers warm and soft against my flushed skin. The sensation ignited sparks that spread like wildfire through my body.
Our gazes remained locked, unwilling to break the spell that wove itself around us. Alexander moved in even closer, and I felt his breath hot against my lips. My pulse accelerated, the space between us practically nonexistent now.
“I hope you’ll forgive me for this, but I can’t stand it any longer,” he said, sliding his hand behind my head and tipping it back.
I knew I needed to stop it, but I didn’t have the strength to. I wanted him as bad as he wanted me, and he searched my eyes, finding that affirmation written there before leaning in.
