Frowning, Johnny reached over and cupped—yes, literally cupped—my chin in his hand. “What the fuck is that?” he demanded, voice deathly quiet, as his blue eyes blazed with fire. “What?” I squeezed out, panic-stricken. Tipping my chin up, he brushed my hair off my shoulder and released a low growl. “That,” he growled, trailing his thumb over my cheekbone. “And that,” he added, skimming the curve of my eye.
