The Interview (The Whittingtons, #1)

by Donna Alam

I notice the lowball glass resting against his thick thigh as he lounges back in the chair. My heart dances an erratic beat as he slowly uncoils to deposit the glass on a side table.

What? I literally have no idea what this means.

“I don’t want to turn the clock back.” Relief rushes through me at the admission I thought I’d never hear. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t be anywhere near me. Because every time you step into my office, I won’t see you professionally. I’ll be remembering how wet and warm you felt. How your body bent for me. And every time your mouth moves, I’ll hear the sounds falling from your lips and think of how exquisite you are when you come.”

I’d like to volunteer as tribute, Daddy!

“What the fuck?” he mutters quietly. “Speak of the devil, and the fucker will appear.”

“People who get out of bed with a smile on their face are to be treated with suspicion.”

Shit. Shit. Oh shit! I lean back on my heels, the thoughts in my head running free now, unable to be ignored. I love her. I love her, and I’m so screwed.

I want her with a strength that frightens me. I want to keep her, bind her to me. I want to make her happy. Be her mornings and her evenings. Her friend and her lover, her shield and her confidant. I love her so much I want to keep her forever.

“This,” I say, laying my palm over her heart. “Your heart is mine, Amelia. I know you don’t want to admit it, but I see it in your eyes every time you look at me.”

“Give me this chance, darling. I will love you fiercely. Constantly. Inventively.” She laughs again, her walls gripping me like a glove. “I will give you more love than you’ll ever need. I will worship you eternally.”