Adrian's breath stuttered. The sudden, intimate touch of Alexander's hand on his knee was a seismic shock that obliterated all his careful walls of professionalism and fear. It was precisely the kind of direct, dominating contact Alexander had avoided since the kiss, and it felt like a deliberate act of claiming.
He knew he had to turn. Alexander's commands were absolute now, and his silence would only invite a more forceful, less gentle persuasion. Slowly, reluctantly, Adrian rotated his body on the seat, his eyes lifting to meet Alexander's.
Alexander was close. Too close. The proximity was a physical pressure, and Adrian could see the minute flex of Alexander's jaw, the depth of blue in his eyes—a color that seemed to absorb all the passing highway lights.
"Y-yes, Boss?" Adrian whispered, his gaze flickering down to the hand resting heavily on his knee, anchoring him.
