SEIZED Part 1: New Adult Romantic Suspense (Seize Me Romance Fiction Series) by JC Coulton

so healing, makes me relax. The knots in my shoulders need this, and I need this.
    I jump out and line up my stuff in a neat row on the cabinet. He has everything in order and I can’t help taking a little sniff of his aftershave. Hmm, he smells good. The bathroom is modern and masculine in the way I expected his whole place to be. He even has matching towels. They’re gun metal grey and I grab two, one for my hair which is dripping everywhere, and the other to dry myself between the bruises.
    It’s the first time I properly see the damage done to my neck. The bruises are already purple and vivid against my skin. My forehead cut is actually tiny, it just bled a lot. My legs are grazed, and there are bruises on my arms, but I’m okay. A burst of weird pride surfaces inside me. Of course I’m okay. Being okay is what I do. It’s what I’ve always done, and it’s what I’ll keep doing with or without a man in my life.
    I look critically at my body. I’m not fat, but there are definitely some curves. Overall, I look pretty good. I’m active, I train every other day, and I keep myself fit. I’m waxed because I like it, not because of a man, and I’m happy about not having a boyfriend. I have regular partners, not frequent, but I do like to get my needs met every month or so. Sex is great. It’s healthy, animalistic, and it doesn’t have to be all lovey-dovey to be good for me.
    Harmless fun is more than okay from my perspective—as long as I can go straight home afterward. I never let them come to my place. There hasn’t been a man in my place for years. I dry myself off, and rub the oils and moisturizers I got at the grocery store into my skin. It feels amazing to be clean, and after slipping into Brenda’s clothes, I’m totally refreshed. Blake has no hair dryer, so I twist my hair into a messy bun and I feel ready to take on finding April again.
    I can smell the coffee the moment I open the bathroom door and thank goodness for that. At least he’s a man with his food priorities straight—even if he is lying about something. I pop next door, into the room he told me will be mine, and I dump my bundle of messy stuff on the floor. There’s no way I’m going to be wearing any of those clothes again, so I slide the pile under the bed. While I was in the shower, he brought a few more of Brenda’s clothes upstairs, and some fresh towels. They’re lined up on the guest bed. Part of me wants to just lie down, but that coffee smells so damn good. I’m a sucker for a tall, steaming cup of black. Coffee makes life okay on the days when it doesn’t feel that way. This is clearly one of those days, so I get my ass downstairs.
    He’s put on some sweatpants and is sitting on the cushions around the low table with a steaming pot of coffee. It smells frigging great, and something inside me coils at the site of him looking so relaxed and sexy. He seems younger, too, more like he used to be—except for the muscles. I can’t miss them with the low neck of his t-shirt. Christ, he should be in advertisement for that t-shirt, I swear. I laugh when I imagine what it would be like walking along, looking up, and seeing Blake Sexy Anderson on a billboard. This is the man I spent a fair amount of time fantasizing about as a teen, and here we are, alone in his apartment sharing a pot of coffee.
    The pot is steaming between us, and he pours me a generous cup as I slide in next to him on the low cushions. He’s sitting cross-legged, looking casual and comfortable, but I slip into a seated yoga pose to protect my sore back. Brenda’s clothes fit me perfectly, and I’m comfy. I put my elbows on the table and look over the top of my mug at him.
    “So, tell me a story Blake Anderson.”
    He laughs at my tone, and it takes me right back to the way things used to be between us.
    “What do you want to know, Miss James?”
    I decide to jump straight in. “What happened to you in senior year for starters, and how the hell did you