He exhales, slowly, some measure of tension leaving his body. “Are you okay?” His gaze travels over my face, my long hair, this wisp of a yellow dress. He uses the gun in his right hand to tilt up my chin.Īnd then his face is close, so close his lips graze my cheek and my breath catches in my throat and he says, “Tell me two things.” He’s planted me in place, his thigh hard between my legs. He leans in, pressing me harder against the wall. He catches both my wrists with one hand, locking them against the brick above my head.
I touch him, try to wrap my arms around him, but he’s too fast.
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