Her fingers squirmed with the glossy silk edge of the cover. "I wasn't stressed over Canfield."
He hung over her, laying his hand on the bed, close to her hip. The motion was inquisitively private, in spite of the fact that he wasn't really contacting her. "Why are you shaking? You said a second prior you were frightened."
Keeping her look on her fingers, she murmured her response.
He twisted down. "You'll need to rehash that. I didn't hear you." She raised her head, and her look crashed into his. "I was stressed over you." she said in a stronger voice, sounding enraged.
Follow gazed down at her. Shock trembled through him. He could see the earnestness under the resentment obscuring her eyes. Perhaps she had been worried about him, yet she would appear to not liked to be. An odd pull i
