I can count on one hand the amount of times he’s hugged me, I have enough fingers to tally up the times he’s brushed my hand with his own, so I’m not expecting him to grab me and stop me from leaving. I’m certainly not expecting his hand to clamp down on my neck, spinning me around and forcing me into his arms before I even realize he’s touching me. His hand stays on my neck, holding me still as he leans down with fire in his eyes and breathes the words against my lips.
