He lifted me up. His arms were strong. He didn't say a word. He walked me out of the office and into the studio.
The bright lights hit my eyes before I could blink. But he didn't turn off the lights. He wanted to see everything. He wanted me to see all he would do to me in this secret room. He walked over to the bed in the center of the room. He set me down on the edge. The fabric was cold against my bare skin, but his hands were like fire.
He stood between my legs. He looked at me for a long time. His eyes weren't cold or professional anymore. They were soft. They were dark with something that felt like hunger and regret.
"Angel," he whispered.
I reached out, my hand hovering at the hem of his shirt, and I pulled his shirt over his head. I wanted to feel his skin—the hard, smooth musc
