Intertwined
But then he took a sharp, shallow breath, his jaw so tight I could see the muscle feathering.
“I was this close—” His voice didn't crack; it hardened, compressing into something dense and fierce. He held up his thumb and forefinger, a mere sliver of space between them, his hand rock-steady but charged with a violent energy, like a spring coiled to its breaking point. “This close to not even going at all.”
The look in his eyes isn’t only desperate. It is feral. It is a raw, blazing intensity that pinned me in place.
Bab Populer