counter. “Don’t touch me.” I hate the way my voice breaks when I say it, and the way I still long to throw my arms around him and bury my face in his bare chest, to feel the comfort I know he can offer me. “I’m not going to hurt you, Emerson. I’ll never hurt you,” he says the words softly, but he doesn’t make another move toward me, sensing how close I am to losing my shit. “You already have,” I whisper, and then I’m sprinting through the penthouse as fast as my legs will take me.
