Impulses Read Online Free PDF

Mr. Wentworth. The way, in which he placed himself on the corner of that desk, the way that lock of his hair fell loosely onto his brow. Oh, and those eyes, those hypnotic, deep, dark, pools of sexual energy, carnal yet so kind and devoted.
    Remembering the way his hand locked into mine, I unconsciously glance down at my hands. The electric charge that was felt when we stared at each other…wow. Like a sixteen year old girl begging to be kissed by the captain of the high-school football team, I found myself secretly pleading for him to make a move. Minds, I am unable to read, body language on the other hand…
    I chuckle and bite down on my lip.
    My reverie is cut short by the abrupt halt of the elevator and the doors slowly glide open on my fifteenth floor.
    Entering the confines of my apartment, I groan with reprieve as my tense and exhausted body sluggishly makes its way to the couch on the far side of the apartment. I place my purse down on the dining-table as I pass.
    Kicking off my heels, I slump into the scarlet, soft leather couch, secretly savoring the sensation of the weight being removed from my tired, aching legs. I might as well have concrete blocks encasing them.
    I tip my head back, and fail miserably at suppressing a pleasurable groan, while I wriggle my throbbing toes. What was I thinking wearing ludicrous five-inch stiletto heels?
    Never again, my subconscious mutters on an outward breath, dipping her feet into a state of the art foot spa. Bitch.
    “Well hello there, Miss Sammy. How was work? You look shattered,” Jessie calls through the conjoined living room and dining room as she closes the apartment door.
    Making her way to the living room, she drops her set of keys into the red glass key bowl in the center of the white fireplace opposite me, and re-adjusts two grocery bags under her arms. Removing her purse from over her head, she throws it down on the couch.
    I challenge my body to raise my head off the cold leather headrest. Feeling like it’s been replaced with a bowling ball, my neck slumps back, relinquishing to the heaviness bared upon it. Fluttering my eyelids, I blink rapidly in a feeble attempt to alleviate the annoying, dancing colored spots from vision, thanks to the eighty-watt overhead light that my ever caring roommate just startled me with.
    “Argh, Jessie. Turn it off, it’s, too bright,” I bark, but she ignores my plea.
    I hate it when the nights roll in outrageously quickly, and all lights in the apartment have to be turned on before 6:00 p.m. Argh…why can’t we have a twelve month summer? That would suit me just fine. My eyes slowly succumb to the alarming brightness that swamps the room, and I offer a relived sigh when they no longer feel as though they are being burned out of their sockets.
    “So, how was it?” Jessie asks, full of excitement, although aware that there is a possibility––considering it’s me––that my day didn’t live up to my expectations, and was a complete fail.
    She takes long strides into the kitchen with the groceries and starts unpacking.
    Grudgingly removing myself from the relaxing spot I lay in, appreciating the coolness of the leather that was facilitating my hot, aroused, sensitive flesh as I fantasized about Mr. Hypnotic, I haul myself up. Struggling with the Jell-O sensation in my legs, I walk over to the breakfast bar.
    “Actually, Jess, it was amazing. ” I echo my roommate’s power of speech as I submit myself to my elation. Exhilaration floods and warms my blood as it pours though me.
    Carefully avoiding the burning pressure pains in my feet, I gently slide myself onto one of the artic-white seats of the breakfast barstools, smiling deliriously.
    “Mr. Wentworth has offered me an internship.”
    “Argh,” Jessie shrieks, bouncing on the spot like a boxer warming up before throwing his first punch. She races around the pillar that corners the bar and throws her arms around me.
    “That is fantastic news, Sammy,” she pulls