Amanda
My head snapped up at his command but quickly dropped again as confusion clouded my thoughts. What did he mean that I should sit nowhere else but on his bed? He didn't say another word after that, yet I could feel his eyes burning into me, heavy and deliberate.
"Sit."
This time, his tone was sharp, cold enough to slice through the air. My legs moved before my mind caught up, carrying me toward the bed. I sank onto the soft mattress with a small tug, my breath uneven.
"Good," he muttered, moving past me toward the minibar. He poured a cup of red wine and walked over to the window, taking a slow sip as his fingers tapped lightly against the rails while he looked out at something beyond the glass.
I couldn't hold back what was breeding in my heart, something dangerously close to fear, stealing the air from my lungs. But then he turned, now facing me, his steps measured and deliberate as he came closer.
