The office was dim, shadows stretching from the glow of the tall windows. As his assistant, late nights weren’t new, but tonight carried a charged tension. Months of stolen glances and fleeting touches had built to this moment.

Standing at his desk, sorting papers, you felt him approach, his presence warm and commanding. His hands caged you in, resting on the desk beside yours, his fingers brushing and intertwining with yours. His breath was hot against your ear as his deep voice broke the silence.

“Are you really going to keep pretending you don’t feel this?” he murmured.