Page 32 of His Curvy Obsession

“Why the hell would you say you don’t love her?” Elijah snorts. “You don’t know the first thing about your own emotions and you think you can say with any authority whether you love her?”

“How else do you know?”

“Love is more than an emotion you feel towards someone,” Elijah shakes his head. “It’s an action. A verb. You perform theact of loving Rebecca by protecting her. By taking care of her, by wanting to be near her. Isn’t that enough?”

“Is it?”

“What more is there?” He shrugs. “Love means duty, Eric. Like a soldier going to battle to protect his homeland. You’ll go to battle for that woman and I’d say that’s an indication that you feelsomethingfor her. Fuck whatever label people need to put on that. Love doesn’t have a single definition. It looks different on everyone.”

“Love means duty.”

I repeat the words, thinking of the night I spent staying up in that hard chair, afraid that if I got comfortable, I’d fall asleep. I cleaned her up, watched her all night. Listened to her problems as she drunkenly rambled to me with her head in the toilet. And then, by morning, aimed to solve her problems — in my own, somewhat misguided way.

It’s not something I’d do for many people. Few people, in fact. And yet I did it for her.

“You might be onto something,” I say to Elijah.

He leans in, staring me down.

“Don’t. Waste. It,” he says. “Lock this thing down. Give her whatever she wants. Stop being a fucking idiot.”

I stand up and nod.

“Good pep talk,” I say. “Stop being a fucking idiot. I’ll remember that advice.”

Elijah tilts his head, looking up at me thoughtfully.

“I think…I think you just made a joke,” he says. “At the very least, it was a sarcastic remark. It must be snowing in hell right now.”

“A blizzard, actually,” I say over my shoulder on my way out.

12

Rebecca

It’s Friday evening.Unusual for me to work late. But for some reason, Eric asked me to stay late tonight and reformat meeting notes.

In other words, grunt work. Meaningless busy work.

It feels like a punishment. Like the way a teacher might ask you to stay after class to write lines. Little to no value in doing it, other than making your writing hand cramp up, and making you miss out on hanging with your friends after school.

Did I do something wrong?

Eric isn’t the type to dish out punishments like this, though. I’ve witnessed him chewing out an employee before; Eric doesn’t mince words, and ultimately, he’s not afraid to give someone the ax if it comes down to that. So if I’d done something wrong, something to displease him, I would definitely know about it.

But then, why else would he be making me stay late like this?

All week, Eric’s been different. But in a good way. We’ve crossed the line multiple times. With him making excuses for me to come see him in his office, the blinds closed, the door locked, and…

Well. You can guess what happens next.

Let’s just say that the church pew from Alyssa’s wedding isn’t the only thing he’s bent me over.

I pull my phone out of my bag and check the screen for missed calls and texts. Nothing from Eric, not even a response to the text message I’d sent him earlier today. A single heart emoji. Maybe that was a step too far. But god, how can a heart emoji be taking things too far when having sex in his office isn’t?

The man confuses me.

One minute he’s hot and one minute he’s cold. Telling me that he’s lonely, telling me that he thinks I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

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