Page 5 of Rescuing Sophia

I can do this. I have to do this.

Squaring my shoulders, I push off from the wall and head toward the reception desk. Time to find out exactly where they put Sophia and get this show on the road.

“Can I help you?” The receptionist, a pretty young woman, eyes me as I approach.

“I’m looking for Sophia Reeves.” I’m proud of how steady my voice sounds.

She taps at her computer for a moment, then nods. “Room 217.”

“Thanks.” I turn to go, but her smile widens.

She leans forward, exposing just enough cleavage to let me know she’s interested. Her voice drops a notch, becoming sultry.

“Is there anything else I can help you with? Maybe grab a drink later?”

Usually, I’d consider it. My bed’s never empty for long, and it’s no secret I have a healthy appetite for sex. My urges are carnal and raw. Aggressive and dark.

Fuuuuuck… Stop thinking about sex!

But right now, all I can think about is Sophia. Her face, her voice, the way she looked at me.

“Thanks, but I’ve got my hands full today.” I give her a polite nod, moving down the hallway.

“You sure? I promise I don’t bite—unless you ask nicely.” Her pout is almost comical.

“Maybe another time.” I shake my head. A different day, and I’d be all on board.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Her disappointment is palpable, but she recovers quickly.

Walking down the hall, my heart races with each step. 215… 216… 217. I stop outside her door, hand poised to knock—frozen in place.

Get it together, Jackson. You’ve faced down terrorists and drug lords. You can handle one woman.

But that’s the problem.

Sophia isn’t just a woman. She’s the one who haunts my dreams—the one I have to face every day while pretending I don’t want to lose myself in her completely.

But I do.

I desperately do.

I cut that thought off before it can fully form.

Professional. Be professional.

Taking a deep breath, I knock on the door. The scent of antiseptic mingles with the faintest lavender perfume. There’s a moment of silence, and a soft voice calls out.

“Come in.”

I turn the handle, the cool metal grounding me before I step into the room. The dim lighting casts a warm glow, creating a small oasis in the otherwise harsh medical ward. Sophia Reeves sits on the edge of the bed, her head bowed, those storm-cloud eyes hidden behind a curtain of dark lashes.

For a moment, I forget how to breathe.

The room feels ten sizes too small, the air too thick to breathe. The faint hum of the air conditioning and the distant murmur of voices in the hall fade away, leaving only my heartbeat thundering past my ears.

A few seconds pass in heavy silence, and then she gives a slow, languid blink. Her gaze lifts, meeting mine, and my skin tingles under the intensity of her stare.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Her voice is a whisper, like the rustle of silk, sending shivers down my spine. The warmth of her breath and the gentle cadence of her words wrap around me, pulling me in.

---