Page 12 of Rescuing Sophia

I shake my head, banishing those thoughts. This is different. Blake is different.

The bedroom door creaks open, Blake emerges, his dark brown hair tousled from sleep, a wild mane against his otherwise disciplined persona.

He’s shirtless, every inch of his athletic, muscular frame catching the soft morning light. His presence fills the room like a primal force, raw and untamed.

My gaze travels slowly from the small scar above his left eyebrow, a remnant of some childhood mishap, down to his piercing-blue eyes that see straight through me. He moves with the graceof a predator, each step deliberate and powerful, his muscles rippling under his skin.

Heat floods my cheeks as I watch him, my breath catching in my throat. The air crackles with his raw, intoxicating energy, making my heart race and my skin tingle. The sight of him is exhilarating, a heady mix of excitement and danger that makes my pulse quicken.

My gaze lingers on the defined lines of his chest and the subtle dip of his abdomen, leading to the waistband of his low-slung pants.

He pauses, his eyes locking onto mine, and the room seems to shrink around us. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down my spine. It’s like staring into the eyes of a wild animal, unpredictable and thrilling.

My body reacts instinctively, a wave of desire crashing over me as I take in the sheer virility of him, every inch the embodiment of untamed masculinity.

I openly savor each inch of his physique, how his muscles ripple with the slightest movement, and how his powerful presence commands my attention. A blush creeps up my neck when I finally meet his eyes again.

Sleeping with him is going to be fun.

At least, I have that to look forward to.

Blake smirks, catching the way my eyes roam over his body. “Like what you see?” His voice is a low, teasing rumble that sends another shiver down my spine.

I raise an eyebrow, refusing to be embarrassed. “Of course.” I let my gaze travel over him again, making no effort to hide my appreciation. “You’re the whole damn feast, and I’m an appreciative person.”

“Glad to know I’m appreciated.” His smirk deepens, and he steps closer.

I meet his gaze head-on, my heart pounding but my composure intact.

“Very much so.” My voice is sultry, hinting at the playful promise of more to come.

“Hmmm…” Blake’s eyes darken with desire, the tension between us electric. “What do I smell? Did you make breakfast for me?”

“I did. I can’t say what it tastes like. My kitchen skills leave much to be desired.” My voice comes out higher than intended—squeaky even.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Blake blinks, surprise evident on his face.

“I wanted to. Not that there was much to choose from in the fridge, but whoever stocked it for me, please tell them thank you for me.”

“I had it stocked.”

“Then thank you very much.” I gesture to the table, suddenly unsure. “It’s a simple omelet, but I thought… Well, I hope you like it.”

“It smells great. Thank you.” A small smile tugs at his lips.

I stand there, twisting my hands together, watching as he sits down, my heart pounding. He takes a sip of the coffee first, and I hold my breath. When his eyes widen, and he sputters, nearly spitting it out, my stomach drops.

Oh no! He hates it.

Why did I even try?

But despite the mishap, I can’t help but admire how he handles it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression more surprised than annoyed. He’s so effortlessly composed, even in moments like this. I suddenly feel self-conscious, wondering if I’ll ever measure up, if I can ever truly be the kind of woman who fits into his world.

“I’m sorry.” I reach for the cup, my hands trembling. “I’m sorry. I thought… I mean, I can do better. I can make it again.” My voice quivers, my mind racing, desperate to fix this, to make him happy, fearing the worst.

Every fiber of my being screams to fix this, to make him happy, to ensure his satisfaction at all costs. The old, ingrained fears surface, the ones that tell me a mistake like this could have severe consequences.

The desperation to please him overwhelms me, and I can barelybreathe as I wait for his reaction, praying I haven’t ruined everything.

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