Page 24 of Rescuing Sophia

“Here you go. Enjoy.” He steps back quickly, giving us a wide berth.

The air remains charged, the silence stretching out as we grapple with our thoughts.

Desperate to break the tension, I smile brightly and grab a slice of pizza. The first bite is heaven—gooey cheese, tangy sauce, crisp crust. A moan escapes me before I can stop it.

“Oh my, this is amazing.”

Blake shifts in his seat, his eyes never leaving my face. “Good?”

“Better than good. It’s decadent.” I lick the sauce from my lips, savoring the burst of flavor.

His eyes follow the movement of my tongue, darkening with a smoldering intensity. I suppress a triumphant smile.

Throughout the meal, I brush my foot against his under the table. Each time, he tenses but doesn’t pull away. The brief contact sends little sparks of electricity between us.

The aroma of melted cheese and baked dough fills the air, mingling with the faint tang of tomato sauce. The bustling sounds of the pizzeria—clinking cutlery, soft chatter, the hum of conversation—create a cozy backdrop to our private tension.

“That was incredible. Thank you.” I lean back, patting my stomach.

“Glad you enjoyed it.” A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth, a brief moment of softness that makes my heart flutter.

I take a deep breath, letting the warmth and satisfaction of the meal settle over me. “So, about the tour this morning, I enjoyed seeing where you work. I’d love to see more. Maybe the tech building?”

“I’m sure I can make that happen.”

We walk back to my apartment in comfortable silence. The night air is cool against my skin, and I shiver slightly. Without aword, Blake shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. The gesture, so simple and yet so intimate, makes my heart skip a beat.

I’m not used to a man taking care of me. Not even close. Quite the opposite. I’ve been conditioned to serve, to cater to every whim. My needs were always secondary, barely acknowledged. Is it wrong to wish for a bit of comfort, for once? To spend a night of pleasure with a man I choose?

The thought of Blake caring for me, even in small ways, stirs something deep inside. I’ve always been the one to give, to sacrifice, to endure. The idea of someone tending to me, looking out for me, feels like a forbidden luxury.

Am I allowed to crave that? To yearn for the warmth of his embrace, not out of obligation, but out of genuine desire? The thought of spending a night with him, wrapped in his strong arms, free to explore the connection between us, sends a thrill through me. It’s more than physical attraction; it’s the possibility of choosing, of having a say in my pleasure.

Is it wrong to dream of a moment where I can be vulnerable and safe at the same time?

Blake represents that chance.

At my door, I turn to face him, my heart pounding. “Would you like to come in? Maybe have a drink?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Blake hesitates, his eyes flickering something I can’t quite grasp.

“Just one drink. To say thank you for today.” I step close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. My voice is low and inviting.

Irresistible.

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. For a moment, I think he’ll refuse, but then he exhales slowly.

“One drink.”

Inside, I pour each of us a glass of water—the only beverage I have. We sit on the small couch, and I deliberately position myself close to him, our thighs almost touching. The air between us feels charged, electric.

“Blake…” I turn to face him. My hand finds his knee, and he tenses under my touch. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“It’s my job, Sophia.” His eyes meet mine, a storm of conflicting emotions swirling in their tumultuous depths.

“Is that all it is?” I lean in, my lips mere inches from his. “Is that all I am? A job?”

For a heartbeat, he looks like he might close the distance between us. His gaze drops to my lips, and his breath catches audibly, but then he stands abruptly, putting space between us.

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