His merciless grip is the only thing keeping me in place, and he seems to recognize that, too, because he tightens his arm around my waist. I don’t know if it’s the added pressure of his touch or the fact that a foolish part of me is starting to believe him, but my fight slowly wanes until I can barely sense it. Tension lingers in the air even as my fist tries to push at him. It’s my last desperate attempt to keep some distance between us. He squeezes my hand, but it’s not meant to crush my fingers as I would expect. It’s more like he’s demanding my attention.
