CHAPTER SIX
518 Words
Emma woke to the soft gray light of dawn and the warm, steady weight of his arm draped over her waist.
For a moment, she lay still, listening to the slow rhythm of his breathing. It didn’t feel real. None of it did.
She’d spent so long imagining what it would be like—how he would taste, how he would feel pressed against her—but reality was more dangerous than any fantasy. Because here, in the quiet aftermath, she couldn’t pretend this was only desire.
Carefully, she turned her head to look at him.
Alexander slept on his back, one hand resting against his sternum. In sleep, he looked younger, the hard edges of his features softened. Almost vulnerable.
Her chest tightened.
What are you doing, Emma?
She knew the answer, even if she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
She was falling for him.
And that terrified her more than anything.
---
She shifted, trying to ease out of the bed without waking him. She needed space, a moment to think.
But the moment she moved, his arm tightened, anchoring her in place.
“Don’t.” His voice was rough with sleep.
Her breath caught. “I—I should go. It’s early.”
His eyes opened, dark and clear even in the dim light. For a moment, he just studied her. Then his hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing softly over her skin.
“Stay,” he murmured.
Her throat tightened. “Alexander—”
“I know,” he said quietly, as if he could hear the protests she hadn’t spoken. “I know what this is. What it means.”
He paused, his gaze searching hers.
“But I don’t care,” he finished.
The ache in her chest spread, filling every corner of her.
She pressed her palm to his chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of his heart.
“You should,” she whispered.
He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“Too late for that,” he said.
Silence settled between them, thick with everything they couldn’t say.
Finally, he drew in a slow breath and shifted to sit up, the sheet sliding low on his hips.
“You have meetings at nine,” he said, all business again, but softer somehow. “You’ll be late if you don’t get dressed.”
She swallowed, nodding.
She gathered her clothes in silence. When she turned to leave, he reached out and caught her wrist.
“Emma.”
She looked back at him, her heart beating too fast.
“This isn’t over,” he said quietly. “Not by a long shot.”
She didn’t trust herself to answer.
So she only nodded and slipped out the door, closing it softly behind her.
---
In the empty elevator, she pressed her hand to her lips, trying to steady her breathing.
She wasn’t sure which was more dangerous—staying, or leaving.
But as the doors slid shut, she knew one thing for certain.
Whatever came next, she would never be the same again.
- Writer
