“I didn’t like seeing his hands on you. No boyfriend would want to see that.” “Not even a fake one?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood. His jaw stays set like it was cast in stone. “Besides, that was nothing. When we’re dancing, his hands are all over me.” I mean for it to be comforting. To prove that Sebastian and I are comfortable with each other from being in one another’s personal space all the time, but as Rhys’s gaze narrows, and his eyes darken, I realize that he didn’t find my comment reassuring at all. Oops. A deep rumble escapes from Rhys’s throat. Wait. Was that…a growl? Oh my god.
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