Alex's POV
The second I saw her on the dance floor, I knew something inside me was about to snap.
I'd been trying to keep my distance, to maintain that cool, controlled façade I'd perfected over the years. But seeing Emma, her body swaying to the music, her smile carefree, completely oblivious to the chaos she was causing in my head—I felt something primal stir deep inside me. Something I hadn't felt in a long time.
And then he showed up.
Some idiot, smiling like he had every right to put his hands on her, as if he could just walk into her space like she was *his*. The way he touched her, his hands on her waist, like he had the right—it made my blood boil. My jaw clenched so hard I could feel my teeth grinding together, but I didn't move. Not yet.
I watched, barely holding myself back. Watched as she let him guide her, moving with him like they'd known each other for more than just the last five minutes. My hands tightened into fists, the glass in my hand threatening to shatter under the pressure.
She wasn't mine. Not officially. But in that moment, none of that mattered. In my mind, she was. She *always* had been, from the moment we met. I just hadn't admitted it to myself. But seeing her now, with someone else? It was like a fire had been lit inside me, one I couldn't put out.
He leaned in close, too close. Whispered something in her ear. Her body shifted in response, and that's when I lost it.
I put the glass down—too hard, judging by the way the bartender shot me a look—and crossed the room without thinking. The crowd parted for me, or maybe I was just pushing them out of the way. I didn't care. My eyes were locked on one thing, one person.
Emma.
When I reached her, my pulse was hammering in my ears, my vision sharp with anger. The guy turned, finally noticing me. His smile faltered, and I saw the realization hit him like a slap to the face. Good.
"Move," I growled. My voice was low, but it cut through the noise like a knife.
The guy's hands dropped from her like he'd just been burned. He backed away, his face pale, not daring to meet my eyes again. He had no idea how close he'd come to making the biggest mistake of his life.
But Emma—she stood there, staring at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She didn't back away. Didn't shrink from the fury in my eyes. If anything, she looked… defiant. Challenging, even.
My blood still boiled, and I stepped forward, closing the space between us. I could see the way her breath hitched, the way her lips parted slightly. Her eyes locked onto mine, and for a second, the anger mixed with something else. Something dangerous.
"You think this is a game, Emma?" My voice came out rough, harsher than I intended, but I couldn't help it. The jealousy, the possessiveness—it was coursing through me like wildfire.
"I was just dancing, Alex," she said, her voice defiant, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing. She always knew how to push my buttons, how to get under my skin in a way no one else ever could.
"Not with him, you weren't." The words came out harder than I'd planned, my control slipping. I hated that this guy—*any* guy—thought he had the right to be close to her.
And I hated even more that she hadn't pushed him away.
Her eyes softened for just a moment, like she was trying to understand why I was reacting like this. Why I was this furious, this possessive. I hadn't told her. Hell, I barely admitted it to myself. But it was obvious now. Too damn obvious.
"Why do you care?" she asked, her voice softer now, and in that moment, I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to lay it all out—how I hadn't been able to get her out of my mind since the first time we met. How every time I saw her, she made me feel things I had no right feeling. How it drove me *crazy* that she didn't belong to me.
But I couldn't. Not here. Not like this.
Instead, I stepped closer, my hand finding her waist, my grip firm. I didn't care that people were watching, didn't care that it was reckless. The only thing that mattered in that moment was making sure she knew.
"I *always* care," I said, my voice low, but full of the raw emotion I could no longer hide.
She looked up at me, her lips parting slightly as she processed what I'd just said. Her breath hitched, and I could see the effect I had on her. She couldn't hide it, not from me. The tension between us, the pull—it was undeniable.
"Alex…" she whispered, her voice soft, almost pleading.
I leaned in, my mouth inches from her ear, my breath hot against her skin. "Don't test me, Emma. You know exactly what you do to me."
She shivered under my touch, and I knew—knew that despite the push and pull between us, despite the barriers we both tried to put up—she felt it too.
The fire. The pull. The need.
Her body pressed into mine, whether intentional or not, and my control snapped. My hand tightened on her waist, pulling her closer, claiming her in a way that words couldn't. I could feel her pulse racing under my fingertips, matching the wild thrum of my own.
I'd spent too long keeping my distance. Too long pretending I didn't care. But seeing her like this, seeing someone else think they could touch her, it had all come crashing down.
She was mine.
She always had been.