KROSS

I sat on the edge of the chair, my laptop balanced on my knees, but I wasn't really working. Yes, the screen was open, the cursor blinking like it wanted me to focus, but my eyes refused.

They kept drifting toward her. She lay on the bed, her body curled under the soft sheets, her hair spilling across the pillow like a dark river.

She was beautiful, and she looked fragile, and my damn chest was aching because I wanted her. Again.

Wanted her? That was saying it lightly.

I needed ...