“What are you doin’?” I gasp out, not because I’m scared, but because the hold he has on my throat is so tight I can hardly breathe. His eyes widen in horror as he yanks his hand back and takes several steps away from me as his fists clench and unclench. Then he inhales deeply before reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck, refusing to meet my gaze. “So, there’s a lot of oil in here,” he says on an exhale, shifting a bit as he looks around again. What the fuck was that? I think I just got whiplash.
