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Except now, her touch was the only one that didn’t feel like an assault on my body.
I reached back and grabbed her hand, and she stared for a moment, stunned. Her hand was small—delicate—in mine. Her soft skin was icy, and I brushed my thumb over the back of her hand in an attempt to warm it. She shivered and nearly pulled her hand from my grasp, but I tightened my hold.
“Did you just call my abs chiseled?”
“Please,” I pleaded. I couldn’t stand to let her go. I needed her presence to keep me sane. “Don’t leave me.”

