I was wearing stilettos, and he was tall and had long legs. He ignored my struggle.
"Could you please not grab me, sir? It hurts." It really did. His hand was wrapped around my wrist. It was warm when his rough palm made contact with my wrist, and yet it felt like ice from a thousand years ago, cold and sharp.
He pushed me to the hood of the dark Bentley, placed his right hand on my waist and leaned forward. My whole body seemed to be deeply embedded in his.
"Tell me your name." His voice was low and cold, with a distant feeling.
The hand on my waist was not relaxing at all.
I couldn't catch my breath.
"It's Selena Barton. Please let go of me, sir. It's not good for us to be like this." I raised my hand and pressed against his muscly shoulders.
The person before me did not budge.
"
