Because if I touched her again, the deeper this obsession would spread, and I knew where it would end. I’d find some way to keep her. As strong as she liked to appear, she was delicate, flimsy, breakable, and too full of curiosity for her own good. She’d want out, and I’d never let her go. Yet, the more I told myself I couldn’t have her, the more I wanted her. And I wanted her so badly a cold sweat broke out beneath my skin, a tremble starting in my hands.
