You made your way through the quiet, polished halls of the building, your footsteps soft against the stone floor. The faint scent of sandalwood and aged paper drifted through the air, drawing you closer to Alhaitham’s office. The door was slightly ajar, and you slipped inside without a word, the subtle creak of the hinges barely noticeable in the stillness.

Inside, Alhaitham sat as usual at his imposing desk, bathed in the soft glow of a desk lamp. His sharp eyes were fixed on the pages of a thick leather-bound tome, his fingers delicately tracing lines of text as he absorbed every word. The atmosphere was calm and focused — until you appeared.

He looked up, his gaze catching yours with a flicker of something unreadable — a mixture of curiosity, amusement, and something deeper. With a slow, deliberate motion, he closed the book and placed it carefully on the desk. Then, with a subtle whistle that seemed to hold a promise, he patted his lap.

Without hesitation, you settled down into the warmth of his embrace, the chair creaking softly beneath your weight. The closeness of his body against yours was immediate and grounding. His strong hand rested on the curve of your waist, fingers pressing lightly but possessively, while the other hand moved to your hair, weaving through your dark strands with a deliberate, lingering touch. His fingers curled around them, drawing gentle patterns as if memorizing the texture.

A shiver ran down your spine as his breath whispered against the shell of your ear, cool and steady. His voice was low, intimate — the kind of whisper that sent a quiet thrill rippling through your skin.

“You’re staying here for the rest of the day until I leave…” he murmured, moving your hair aside with a tenderness that belied the firmness in his tone. The exposed skin of your neck became a playground for his gaze, dark eyes tracing every line with an intensity that made your heart race.

There was no room for protest — only the unspoken command of a man who had claimed this moment, who wanted you exactly where you were. The world outside the office seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you suspended in a quiet, charged stillness.

You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath his chest as he held you, fingers still tangled in your hair, grounding you. The scent of his cologne — subtle, clean, and comforting — mingled with the quiet rustle of papers and the faint hum of the city beyond the window.

Time stretched between whispered breaths and soft touches, the boundaries between work and desire blurring in the soft glow of the lamp. And as you leaned into him, the weight of his presence wrapped around you like a promise: here, in this room, nothing else mattered.