Novel & Cerita Firmly Grasp It

"That I reject you?" His fingers dug into the flesh of my thigh, gripping hard. "Then listen, because I’m only going to say this once."

“Handle her carefully. No bruises. No scratches. Nothing at all. If anything happens to her, you will answer for it.” The tattooed man nodded firmly, his face serious as he stepped closer to me. Without saying anything, he reached out and grabbed my arm with a rough hand. His grip was strong and unyielding, holding me in place. It was tight enough to show control, though it did not hurt. At least not yet.

The words hung in the air, a challenge, a declaration of war. With that, I spun on my heel, turning my back to him. But before I could take a step forward, he was there, his presence like a wall behind me. His hand shot out, grabbing my forearm, stopping me in my tracks. His grip was firm, unyielding. a hand that grips my arm and squeezes too tight. . He caught me and I felt an inmes pressure on my arm and had a vise-like grip on my arm. He could rip my arm out of my torso.My heart was pounding out of my chest. He could hear it.

My mind races, trying to understand, to reconcile with the man who holds me so tenderly with the one who speaks so harshly. As I stand here, caught in Efrem’s embrace, I’m acutely aware of every point where our bodies touch. The firm pressure of his arm around my waist, the gentle but insistent grip of his fingers on my chin. The moment stretches as I wait for him to explain, my brows furrowing.

His grip was possessive, scorching hot, and completely, terrifyingly final. That squeeze communicated everything his words didn't… that he'd already made his choice, that he wasn't backing down, that he would see this through no matter the cost. That he wanted this, wanted me, with a certainty I couldn't begin to comprehend. "We'll be ready."

Intentionally. “No, you’re not.” I glanced at him. “You’re holding me like I might make a run for it.” “You won’t.” The certainty in it makes me look at him properly this time. “Then let go.” He didn’t. If anything, his grip settles more firmly, thumb moving slightly like he’s testing whether I’ll react again. I do. Just enough. And he notices. That’s the problem. “You’re very sure of that,” I say. His gaze stayed on me, steady, unhurried. “I am.”

Then he stepped closer. I panicked. I turned around to run. I didn’t get far. His hand shot out, fast and strong, grabbing my arm. I gasped, nearly tripping. His grip was firm. Warm. Unmovable. “Let go!” I yelled, twisting, pulling, kicking the air. He didn’t move. Not an inch. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly. “THEN LET—ME—GO!” He didn’t. His hold tightened just a little. enough to make my pulse jump.

She struggled against his hold, but his grip remained firm, a firm plea for her to stop. "Let go." Autumn spat, her eyes darkening even more.

My heart had legit stopped for a second. Ths rub patches of his palm slid against the softness of my skin. His giant hand clasped mine in a firm grip, conveying his authority and dominance over all of us. Thankfully, it didn’t tingle. But my heart did miss a beat. That hand had killed many but all I felt was a strange sense of comfort. His strong grip spoke of tenacity. He knew how to hold onto something.

That’s what makes it worse. If he was yelling, I could fight that. If he was pissed, I could throw it right back at him. But this? This is something else. Something heavier. Something that isn’t going to let go. My hands are still on him. Still gripping. Still holding onto his shirt like I forgot how to let go. I don’t move. I can’t. His eyes drop again, slower this time, watching the way my fingers tighten instead of loosening. Catching me.