The Rebellious Stepdaughter of Timothy Grey
“Hey… look at me.”
I shook my head, while pressing my hands tighter over my ears. Then I felt his hand on my arm. It felt warm, firm, and grounding.
“Breathe.” His voice lowered. “You’re alright. I’m here.”
I forced my eyes open. My chest was still heaving.
His face was dangerously close. His brows drawn tight in worry. And his hand gently holding my wrist, careful not to touch the bruised parts.
For a second, the world narrowed to just that… his breath, his eyes, his warmth.