Pushed From Behind
Freya's Point of View
His hands were warm. That was the detail that surprised her most. She had expected the contact to feel formal, mechanical, the way someone handles a task they have been given without any particular feeling attached to it. But the warmth of his hands moved through the thin fabric of her dress and reached her skin, and her feet pulled back slightly before she could stop them.
He did not allow her to retreat.
His grip shifted, just enough to hold her steady, and he guided the second shoe into place with the same careful attention he had given the first. When he was satisfied with the fit, he stood.
She sat very still in the open door of the vehicle and looked at her feet.
The shoes fit. Not approximately. Not in the way that shoes sometimes fit w
