MY WILD OBSESSION
“Amelia. It’s okay. We have time. We don’t have to talk about her today.”
I stop moving.
He steps closer, slow, careful, like he’s approaching something fragile. He takes my hand gently, grounding, and leads me back to the sofa. I let him. My legs feel weak anyway.
“Would you like some coffee?” he asks.
I breathe in. Out. “Yes, with lots of milk,” I say quietly.
He walks back to his desk. It’s large, polished, powerful-looking, his name bold across the front. Blake Jordan.
He rolls up his sleeves slightly, his shirt tucked into his pants and fabric stretching tight over his shoulders. His arms are solid and defined. God, he looks unfairly good like this, focused and dominating