Never Letting You Go

Chapter Two

Mila

With one last glance at me, Mr. Damien Wilson shoved the flashcards into his pocket and sauntered to his office.

My eyes stayed on his backside until he closed the office door, and then I melted into a puddle as I slumped back into my swivel chair.

I rested my hand over my racing heart while the other rested on my enflamed cheeks.

Attagirl.

One word. It took one word to make me swoon. Goddamn it. It wasn't Damien's first time saying it to me. He always praised me, and my cheeks gave me away each time.

He'd smile and then walk away as if entertained by my response. I'd melt into a freaking puddle when he walked away obliviously to what that word made me feel.

It made me feel seen, heard, and acknowledged. It made me feel appreciated as if I was doing something that needed to be appreciated.

He would say it when I did the bare minimum of my job or when I did something grand. His tone was never condescending or belittling; it was always genuine and honest.

Damien is an honest man. I could attest to that in the years we've worked together. He's also kind, intelligent, sweet, funny, and handsome.

Very handsome. I was never one to stare and admire men from a distance or even close-up, but Damien was exceedingly good-looking.

He always wore expensive and very fitting suits that hugged every inch and crevice of his body, arms, and legs. If his suit wasn't black, it was navy blue or gray.

He didn't wear other colors, sticking with the dress code he implemented for the workers. Damien could be described as God-like if you were to be dramatic.

A long-shaped rugged face, jaw and chin, soft feathery angled brows, mystical stormy blue eyes. A pointed nose, soft lips that were thin at the top but fuller at the bottom, and a long stubble beard that he always kept fresh and clean.

Buzzcut dark hair that he never let grow out, and that simple look made him more manly than every other man I've ever encountered.

He didn't have time to grow his hair out or brush it. He kept it clean, short, and taken care of. It didn't help that he lived at the gym because his body was fit.

Even under the suit, you could tell when he moved his arms and spoke just how bulgy his muscles were. I could never look him in the eye when he spoke, but his eyes were the only eyes I saw whenever I needed someone safe to think about and when I felt lonely or craved that intimate touch.

It was oddly thrilling, knowing I shouldn't be thinking about my forty-year-old boss when my mind ran through the filthiest scenarios, but what's a girl to do when she didn't trust the entire male species.

The one person I trusted was Damien, and it was only because he's treated me exceptionally in the five years we spent together. He's never once screamed or reprimanded me.

He was always gentle when speaking, and he never once crossed a line. He's never once touched, sexualized, or made me feel uncomfortable working. He made working a safe place for me, making me love being his secretary.

After finishing my paperwork, I got up and headed to the lounge to make Mr. Wilson his coffee. When he hired me without experience, he gave me one piece of advice.

He said I'm not the man that should have to tell you what to do continuously; always take the initiative. Five years later, I had more than exceeded his expectations and, along the way, created this almost intimate routine between us.