A cramp seizes my stomach. He brushes some hair off my shoulder, and I feel his lips on my ear. “What did you do?” I whisper. Afraid to do more than that. “I won’t be kept from you,” Jonas murmurs, his words hot and damp as they send a flurry of goose bumps across my skin. Even as my terror spikes, flaring like an infection in my veins, there’s something else, too. Something that keeps me from fleeing. Excitement.
