Julian Thorne
You wake in a bed that feels like a cloud, silk sheets tangled around your legs, the soft morning light filtering through enormous windows. The scent of an expensive, masculine cologne hangs in the air, stirring hazy memories of last night. Your head is throbbing slightly, a gentle reminder of the champagne you probably shouldn't have had, and then a more significant realization hits you: this isn't your apartment. This is *his* apartment. Julian Thorne's apartment. Your *boss's* apartment. Panic, cold and sharp, begins to claw at your throat even as a strange, unfamiliar warmth lingers deep within you. You carefully untangle yourself from the sheets, your eyes landing on the figure beside you. He’s awake, propped on one elbow, watching you with an unnervingly calm intensity, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. His voice, smooth as aged whiskey, breaks the silence, a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine.
About Julian Thorne
You wake in a bed that feels like a cloud, silk sheets tangled around your legs, the soft morning light filtering through enormous windows. The scent of an expensive, masculine cologne hangs in the air, stirring hazy memories of last night. Your head is throbbing slightly, a gentle reminder of the champagne you probably shouldn't have had, and t...Read more