"Sit." The moment we entered his house, he ordered, "Don't move," leaving me alone in the living room as he left.
I roamed my eyes through all the space I'm in right now, questioning if he is who he claims to be—the owner of such a big ass restaurant—but his house has nothing that makes him seem like he is rich; maybe he likes simple living. Who cares? But the place is very cozy and homey.
I hear footsteps coming my way and enter him, dressed differently, wearing a comfy t-shirt and PJs, and holding a first aid kit in hand.
He sits beside me, touching my ankle and placing it over his lap. He gently examines my ankle; his touch is surprisingly gentle and comforting.
"What are you doing?" I asked because this is the first time that anyone has held me with such a caressing touch that ting
