Chapter 7: Tension on knife's edge
588 Words
The next morning was torture.
Emiliano avoided Alejandro’s gaze. He focused on his screen, on his typing, on anything other than the memory of that kiss. Of being pinned, touched, wanted so thoroughly that it still echoed in his chest.
And yet… every time Alejandro moved, every time his deep voice sounded from the next room, Emiliano’s stomach clenched and his body remembered.
“Rivera.”
Emiliano jumped.
Alejandro stood at his office door, hand in his pocket, eyes sharp. “In my office. Now.”
Emiliano rose shakily and followed him inside.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Alejandro stood with his back turned, staring out at the city skyline. His voice was steady. Controlled.
“I’ve had… thoughts about last night.”
Emiliano didn’t respond. He couldn’t trust his voice.
Alejandro turned. “You tempt me.”
Emiliano’s eyes widened.
“You walk in here every morning, so damn pretty, trying so hard to be invisible. But your eyes tell me everything.”
Alejandro crossed the space between them in three slow steps. Emiliano took a step back his lower back bumping into the desk behind him.
“You’re scared of what happens if we take that next step.”
Alejandro leaned down, both hands bracing on either side of Emiliano, caging him in.
“I am too.”
Their faces were close too close but Alejandro didn’t kiss him.
Instead, he reached out, slowly, deliberately, and tucked a strand of hair behind Emiliano’s ear.
“You’re trembling.”
“I’m not,” Emiliano lied.
Alejandro smiled darkly. “You are. And I like it.”
His fingers slid down to Emiliano’s throat not choking, just resting. Feeling his pulse hammering wildly beneath the skin.
“I could ruin you,” Alejandro whispered, eyes locked onto his.
“Then why don’t you?” Emiliano whispered back, voice almost broken.
Alejandro paused.
“I want to. Dios mío, you have no idea how badly I want to.” His lips brushed the corner of Emiliano’s jaw. “But I want you begging for it. Not just wanting it. Needing it.”
He stepped back. The tension stretched like a live wire between them.
“You may go.”
The rest of the day, Alejandro barely looked at him. But the air was heavy between them. The kind of heat that made Emiliano's skin feel too tight. Every brush of fingers passing a document, every glance, every accidental touch of their hands had Emiliano aching.
That evening, Emiliano sat in Valeria’s bedroom, hugging a pillow to his chest.
“I can’t work like this, Val,” he groaned. “I think I’m losing my mind.”
“You are,” she said, sipping her soda. “You’re clearly in love with your boss, who is, according to your description, the sexiest rich man in Mexico City and probably also the most toxic.”
Emiliano shot her a look.
“I’m just saying,” she smirked. “If he hasn’t pushed you against a wall and ruined your entire nervous system yet, he’s either holding back for good reasons… or he’s about to.”
Emiliano swallowed. “What if he’s serious?”
“Then don’t run from it. But don’t fall into it blind, either.”
That night, Emiliano lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He remembered Alejandro’s eyes. His scent. His hand at his throat.
He closed his eyes.
“I want you begging for it…”
Emiliano bit his lip and whimpered softly into the dark.
- Writer
