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“You know, you have to explain something to me at the end of the day because I'm not going to stop asking you questions.”

Okay, so what would you like me to answer first? He says, and he sits at the table in his office. When he does that, honestly, the question I intended to ask, just left to my head.

There was nothing I can think about anymore because I'm just looking at that thing. And it's as mesmerizing as it could possibly be.

“You have a bruise on your face, I say remembering what I wanted to say.” At least I didn't get am puzzled by the sight of him leaning against the table.

“He can be so dashingly handsome, honestly and I don't know if it's that I'm horny.” Or I'm just really in need of one of his embraces and muscles around me.

I need something from him to compliment something from me. I head towards the table and he leans into me as if he's about to kiss me, but then he pauses.

It’s not painful. Yes, I was in the fight. He says and once again, and there's a slight sho