“Sit, I would be right back,” he said, his hands holding my shoulders, pushing me gently into the sofa before he walked to the kitchen.
Heat pooled up in my stomach as the hotness made my cheeks warm, “Why's the air suddenly hot?” I muttered, fanning myself with my hand.
Roman came back to the living room, carrying a first aid box, his composed stride smooth and calculated, his foot almost making no sound as he walked.
I adjusted myself on the chair, diverting my gaze to the blank TV. He placed the first aid box on the table then joined me on the sofa. He pulled me to face him, tilting my jaw so as to see the faint red patch around my neck.
My breath etched as his fingers brushed the area of my neck that hurts. He scrutinized the area as if he was a doctor before his gaze met
