“Come on, lean forward a bit.” I don’t know why he wants me to do this, but it seems like he’s not leaving until I do, so I comply, even though the rebellious part of me wants to lean back and say, Make me. It would seem nausea easily quells the rebellious part of me. “That’s my girl.” His deep voice vibrates through my bones, and then his fingers are in my hair, gently combing it back into a ponytail and wrapping a soft silk scrunchy around it. One he must have fished out of my drawer.
