Chapter Twenty-Eight
Laila’s POV
The lemon juice burned like fire in the back of my throat. I couldn't even form a coherent sentence before my lungs rebelled, sending me into a fit of violent, body-racking coughing. I slammed my glass down onto the coffee table, sending a splash of pale yellow liquid sloshing over the side, and doubled over with my hands resting on my knees, desperately trying to catch my breath.
So much for keeping my composure.
In a fraction of a second, the heavy air in the living room shifted. Before I could even wipe the liquid from my chin, two massive, warm hands gripped my waist, hauling me upright off the wooden coffee table as if I weighed nothing at all.
"Careful," Zane’s deep voice rumbled right against the shell of my ear.
His broad palms were firm again
