Close Enough to Touch
677 Words
Adrian begins to push further. Ella holds her ground, but the air between them is charged. And for the first time… he touches her. Not full-on s*x yet—but something intimate enough to shake her to her core.
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Thursday. 7:12 PM.
The office was almost empty.
Most staff had gone home. But Ella was still at her desk, sorting files for the board meeting Adrian had barely given her time to prepare. She didn’t mind. The quiet helped her think.
What she did mind was the way her boss’s office light was still on.
Adrian Kane never left early.
And when he stayed this late… he usually wasn’t alone.
Ella tried not to imagine who might be behind that closed door tonight. Another woman? Another moan against the glass wall? The very thought made her skin prickle. She shook it off.
Not my business. Not my problem.
She had just finished stapling the last document when her desk phone rang.
“Bring the reports. Come inside.”
His voice. Calm. Deep. Laced with something dark.
Ella took a breath, gathered the files, and walked into his office.
The lights were dimmed. Jazz music played low in the background. A bottle of bourbon sat open on the side table.
He was leaning against his desk, shirt sleeves rolled, collar open. No tie. Hair slightly messy. That signature stare—hungry and unreadable—already locked on her.
She held out the files. “Here.”
He didn’t take them.
Instead, he walked slowly toward her, hands in his pockets.
“You always dress like this?” he asked, gaze sliding down her white blouse and black skirt.
“Like what?” she said, voice firm.
“Like you’re begging to be undressed… but pretending not to know it.”
Her breath caught.
“You’re out of line,” she said.
“And you’re out of touch,” he whispered, stopping in front of her. “You walk around here like you’re safe.”
“I know what you are, Mr. Kane.”
He smirked. “Do you?”
She met his eyes—those dangerously dark, god-like eyes—and refused to flinch.
“You’re the kind of man who’s used to getting what he wants.”
He stepped even closer. Now, their bodies were almost touching.
“I always get what I want.”
“Not this time,” she said.
He chuckled softly. “Then why haven’t you moved?”
Her voice trembled now, just a little. “Because I don’t fear you.”
He reached out and touched her.
Just one hand, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers were warm. Slow. Possessive.
She gasped.
“You should,” he whispered.
Her heartbeat thundered. She hated how good it felt—how soft his touch was. How badly her body betrayed her.
“I won’t be your toy,” she breathed.
His hand hovered by her jaw now. Not touching. Just close enough to make her skin ache.
“You’ll break before I do, Miss Johnson,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve seen stronger women fall faster.”
She pulled away.
Barely.
But enough.
She handed him the files again. He finally took them, eyes never leaving hers.
“You’re dismissed.”
She turned and walked out.
But as she closed the door behind her, her hand trembled.
He touched me.
Just that one light touch. And now her whole body was on fire.
She hated him for it.
But worse…
She hated how much she wanted him to do it again.
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Upstairs, he watched the door close. He poured himself a drink, sipping slowly.
“You’re going to be my favorite,” he murmured. “I can already feel it.”
And outside, Ella leaned against the wall, chest rising and falling, fingers pressed to her cheek where he touched her.
No man had ever made her feel this… confused. This drawn. This torn.
But she wouldn’t break.
She swore she wouldn’t.
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- Writer
