moving. I can’t move. Larry’s clutching my hip now, his touch burning the material of my dress and branding itself on my skin. I don’t want him to touch me, but I can’t stop him. Hell, I can’t even breathe properly. The state of helplessness rushes to the surface, bubbling with nausea and terrorizing fear. Just when I think I’m going to be sick, a large hand grips Steven’s shoulder. A masculine, veiny, very familiar hand. In a flash, Steven is wrenched back so powerfully that he nearly knocks out a few other people with him. I swear my heart flutters when I see exactly who’s in front of me. My
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DADDYSS HOMEEE
