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Nick's eyes widen, momentarily caught off guard by my fierce response. He stammers for a moment before stomping away in a huff, his pride wounded. I refuse to let his demeaning comments diminish my confidence or determination.
As Nick retreats, my attention is drawn to the presence lingering beside my cubicle. Stephen Jameson. There's a tension between us, an unspoken connection that sizzles in the air. We exchange a lingering gaze, neither of us willing to look away.
Stephen leans against the edge of my desk, his voice low and somewhat hoarse. "Chloe, it seems you have quite the effect on the people around here. You have guts, and that’s really admirable."
I feel a shiver run down my spine, as if his words are caressing my back. Once again, I catch a whiff of his scent, and almost instantly, a pool of warmth forms between my legs.
"Thank you, Stephen," I reply, my voice husky with desire. "I believe in doing what's right."
A ghost of a smile plays on Stephen's lips as he leans closer, his eyes locked with mine. "I've noticed," he murmurs, his eyes falling down on the slight cleavage peeking through my formal shirt, and then going even lower—as if he’s showing me exactlywhathe’s been noticing.
My nerves are so heated that I want to lean in and cup his cock through his pants right then and there; I want to see his eyes roll back in the throes of pleasure. And more than anything, I want to taste all of him and hear him moan my name when he comes . . .
But before the charged moment can fully unfold, a voice cuts through the tension. Jonathan's voice. He approaches us and draws Stephen away again.
I'm left standing there, the remnants of our encounter lingering in the air, a subtle dance of temptation and restraint. With a sigh, I gather myself and remind myself to stay focused.
Days later, I sit in my favorite corner of the coffee shop, sipping a latte this time, as memories flood my mind. The weight of Victoria's choices, the final fight between her and Jonathan—it all resurfaces, haunting me like an echo from the past.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself as I recall that fateful night. The air had felt heavy with tension. I had been hiding behind the dining table as Victoria and Jonathan had had that final, fateful argument.
My sister’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, her voice faltering but resolute. "We've tried, Jonathan. We've tried for years, and it's only made us both miserable. I deserve to be happy, to find a love that fulfills me."
My heart ached for Victoria, witnessing the struggle she faced in breaking free from the chains that bound her. Her words, filled with the raw honesty of a woman yearning for something more, resonated deep within me.
At that time, I had questioned Victoria's decision to prioritize financial security and stability over love. To leave Jonathan, a man who had once held her heart, for another who could offer her a more comfortable life. It was a choice that left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I remember that night so vividly, the tension between them filling the room like an invisible storm. Their words were sharp, filled with hurt and disappointment. And as I watched the relationship crumble before my eyes, my attention was drawn to someone unexpected—the younger Stephen Jameson.
He had entered the room, his presence commanding and enigmatic. In that moment, a flutter of attraction stirred within me. His piercing gaze, the way his voice held a hint of vulnerability—it had captivated my imagination, igniting fantasies that were both thrilling and forbidden.
I close my eyes and allow the vivid memories to transport me back to that particular day, when Stephen had made his first appearance in our lives.
I was still a wide-eyed teenage girl who was just discovering the thrill of boys, and older ones that too, when Jonathan had brought Stephen along to pick up Victoria. As Stephen stepped into our home, I couldn't help but feel an inexplicable fascination with this older, more sophisticated boy who was already sporting a tattoo or two.
I watched from a distance, my heart beating a little faster as I observed their interactions. Jonathan and Victoria were engrossed in their own world, laughter and gentle touches painting the picture of young love. And there, beside them, stood Stephen, a silent observer of their affections.
My breath hitched as Stephen's gaze met mine. His presence was overpowering, an invisible force that kept me transfixed by his demeanor. I couldn't look away, my eyes wandering over the rugged contours of his face while my heart fluttered in anticipation. He smiled coyly, a knowing smirk that hinted at untold stories and adventures.
His air of confidence seemed to fill out the room and I found myself both in awe and enthralled by his aura. In that instant when we locked eyes, it felt like time stood still, as if the world around us had melted away. We were alone, connected through a magnetic exchange that sent shivers racing all through my body, leaving an unforgettable imprint on my soul.
I remember the day Victoria confided in me about Stephen's past, painting a picture of his life that I had never known before. We had been sitting on the edge of my bed, our voices hushed as if we were sharing a forbidden secret.
"Chloe, you know Stephen, right? Jonathan's best friend?" Victoria said.
"Yes, I've seen him around.” I tried to sound nonchalant, even though I was dying to know more about the tatted stud and I never dared to ask Tiffany about him.
Victoria sighed, her eyes distant as she recalled the fragments of Stephen's story. "He comes from a broken family, Chloe. I’m sure Tiffany must of told you, their parents divorced when they were young, and their father was absent from their lives. You can only imagine, their mother was too overwhelmed to provide them both with the love and attention they needed. Has Tiffany mentioned this to you?"
A pang of empathy tugged at my heart. " Yeah, but she doesn’t like to get emotional about these things. I know those years were rough for her but that must have been tough for him too."
Victoria nodded, her expression softening. "It was. But Stephen found solace in writing, in covering local stories for the school newspaper. That's where he poured his energy, his time, and his loneliness. It became his escape, his way of creating a world where he had control."
I leaned in closer, my curiosity piqued. "So, he's always been drawn to journalism?"
Victoria smiled sadly, her voice tinged with a touch of wistfulness. "Yes, journalism became his refuge, his passion. He would immerse himself in uncovering the truth, finding the stories that others overlooked. It was his way of seeking connection, of making sense of a world that had let him down."
As she spoke, I began to see Stephen in a new light, the pieces of his puzzle falling into place. The next time he came over, he brought Tiffany with him. It was instant friendship between me and the dark-haired scrawny girl who started her first conversation with me with the words, “Did you know that the name ‘Chloe’ also means ‘bloom’ in Greek? Which means you’re actually called ‘Bloom Bloom.’ How cool is that?” Needless to say, we became thick friends after that and have remained so till today—even though Stephen kind of disappeared from my life after everything that happened between my sister and Jonathan.
