He turns to face me in my bed, careful not to allow any part of our bodies to intersect. His hands rest beneath his cheek, against the pillow, while those odd green eyes gaze at me. Into me. “Tell me to leave,” he urges in a calm, desperate whisper, taking me completely off guard. “Why?” I whisper back voicelessly. There're a million reasons why he should walk out that door. Every societal rule goes against what's happening between us right now. Every survival instinct screams within me to run. To call the police. To get away from this man who has clearly formed an unhealthy obsession with me.
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