He reached out and gently brushed his fingertips over the scar on my jaw. It happened so fast that I didn’t realize what he was doing before his hand was already there. As if it were second nature. As if he did it all the time. As if he had the right. Fire streaked my flesh. Horror and fear and the fight. Worse was the flash of comfort that came along with it. Aghast, I ripped myself back. “What do you think you’re doing?” I wheezed, the words haggard and pained. Panic raced my veins and nearly sent me screaming out the door.
