Chapter 71
Anna’s POV:
1 stepped into our master bedroom at Seaside Manor, intending to change before meeting Blake.
My fingers instinctively reached for the left side of the closet–my side–but froze mid–air.
Claire’s ballet practice outfits and everyday clothes hung where mine should have been. My clothes had been unceremoniously pushed to the corner, crumpled and forgotten. Blake’s suit jacket rested casually next to Claire’s things, as if they belonged together.
A person doesn’t need to be hit or verbally abused to feel hurt. Sometimes, all it takes is finding a few pretty dance outfits hanging in your rightful place. That simple.
I grabbed my wrinkled blouse from the corner and shoved it into the hamper, along with the hurt feelings I refused to acknowledge. Remember why you’re doing this. Don’t think too much.
Downstairs in the dressing room, I deliberately chose a conservative black dress with a hemline that just covered my knees.
Standing before the full–length mirror, I smoothed the fabric and assessed my appearance.
For Blake, this would be enough. Too bold a choice might scare him away. Restraint was necessary now.
I arrived at Wright Group headquarters an hour later than our agreed time. No need to appear too eager.
Blake’s executive assistant looked up from her desk with surprise. “Mrs. Wright! What brings you here? The CEO isn’t in today.”
I smiled calmly, though my stomach dropped. “That’s alright. Blake and I had plans. I’ll wait for him.”
She nodded uncertainly as I walked into his office and closed the door behind me. Of course he wasn’t here. Claire had probably
delayed him with some “emergency” or another.
I settled in to wait, maintaining my composure despite the bitter knowledge churning inside.
The hours crawled by. I’d brought Blake lunch and dinner–all his favorites. I watched as each meal gradually cooled, much like my patient anticipation. The lunch salad wilted, and the dinner steak congealed.
Eventually, I curled up on his office sofa, my body betraying the exhaustion my mind refused to acknowledge. As consciousness faded, I clung to an image of Blake walking through that door, seeing me, and remembering what we once had.
I woke to the smell of familiar cologne and a sneeze. Someone had covered me with a jacket. Opening my eyes, I found Blake standing by the floor–to–ceiling windows, watching me with an unreadable expression.
“Honey!” I sat up quickly, my heart racing despite my determination to stay calm.
I glanced at the untouched food containers spread across his desk. The dinner’s cold now too.”
Blake stepped forward and caught my hand as I reached to gather the containers. “I already ate.”
“Oh.” I continued collecting the boxes with my free hand. “Are you heading back to Seaside Manor? Or planning to work a while longer?”
“Stop it!” His voice dropped to a low growl.
He roughly tilted my chin up, his lips crushing mine as his tongue demanded entry. My fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, our breaths mingling in a desperate rhythm.
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Chapter 71
“I ate,” he whispered hoarsely biting my collarbone. “But now I want to eat you.”
With one hand, he undid my buttons and pushed me against his desk He yanked down my underwear while frantically unbuckling his belt. After walking to the door to lock it, he returned, lifted me, and pressed me against the cold glass window.
His teeth grazed my earlobe. “Anna, you’re so obedient lately. I’m no used to it.”
The chill of the glass against my bare skin made me gasp. Forty stories up, exposed to the entire city yet hidden in darkness. My dress bunched around my waist as Blake’s hands explored my body with hungry urgency,
I arched my back, moving my hips to match his rhythm. “I’ve always been this way.”
He gripped my thighs tighter, lifting me higher against the window. My breath fogged the glass as I panted, my hands clinging to his shoulders for support.
“The past few months–was I dreaming?” He nipped at my ear.
His movements became more demanding. I felt him everywhere–his hands on my skin, his lips on my neck, his body pressed against mine, inside mine.
“Yes, the dream’s over now,” I panted. “Don’t you like me this way? Not arguing, not fighting, just wanting you inside me, filling me completely.”
His thrusts grew more forceful. “Everything about you is perfect, but feel like something’s missing.”
I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, watching his expression change as he lost himself in pleasure. I knew exactly how to move, where to touch, what sounds to make. It was a performance I had perfected.
He lifted me back to his desk, then suddenly flipped me over, pulling me to the edge. His hands gripped my hips with a bruising intensity as he entered me from behind. I clutched the edges of the desk, my nails scraping against the polished wood.
“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his voice rough with desire.
“I want this,” I echoed, the words hollow. “I want you, Blake.”
He leaned forward, covering my body with his, one hand tangling in my hair while the other reached around to caress me. Despite my emotional detachment, my body betrayed me, responding to his expert touch.
We left evidence of our passion throughout his office. His shirt had several buttons torn off; my dress was a wrinkled mess/Red marks covered my neck and collarbone.
I leaned against the edge of his desk, my legs still trembling, his traces still on me.
Blake kissed my sweat–dampened neck. “Amazing. You’re perfect, just like a robot.”
I stared at my reflection in the window glass, at the marks covering my body, and thought: A robot. Perfect body. Following his every command. Except–without a heart.
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