The handle turns before she can reach it.
I'm already there, opening the door and following her scent, without remembering the decision. I look around the room, my eyes landing back on her.
She sways.
“You are not steady,” I say, and though she tries to straighten, her balance gives out completely.
I move before she hits the floor. My hands catch her arms and pull her upright. She is too warm and too close. Our bodies touch, and it feels electric.
Her breath stutters, and mine follows, my grip tightening as I command her to stay still.
“For the record,” she mutters, “that wasn’t the plan.”
My jaw feels locked, and I can already feel the truth of her words.
Something is wrong.
My gaze drops from her throat to the phantom mark where my teeth nearly broke skin last night—before snapp
