Last night was pure madness.
All night long, Emma was tangled up in that man's arms — coaxed, teased, questioned endlessly.
"Baby, you like me, don't you?"
"No? Then let's try again."
But his mischievous fingers clearly didn't mean "it's okay."
He deliberately brushed past her sensitive spots until her mind went completely blank.
Her body trembled, her slender toes curled unconsciously, and her breath hitched.
"Alex… I can't take it anymore."
The man let out a low, satisfied laugh.
"So, Emma, do you like me?"
She knew exactly what answer he wanted — there was only one acceptable one.
Emma pouted, a little sulky.
"Yes."
He leaned close to her ear, his voice low and magnetic.
"Like who? Say it again, sweetheart."
"Like you."
"And who am I?"
"Alex."
In Alex's eyes, a tender light flickered that wouldn't fade. He whispered,
"Emma, I like you too. Only you."
Early the next morning, Emma slipped out of the house before Alex woke up and rushed straight to the office.
