He waited, struggling to keep his deep breaths from making their way to her ear. He hadn’t expected her to come to the window. If the asshole inside didn’t have his hands all over her, he might have spoken to her. He wanted her to know she would be okay and they would be together soon.
When he’d heard his voice, he wanted to hit something. The house would work as a punching bag, but the bricks would scuff his hands. He glanced at his feet and repositioned them against the asphalt shingles. One little slip and he’d slide down to the edge. It had to be at least forty or more feet, which wouldn’t feel too good if he landed on his back.
Unless he transported in time.
He should do it now instead of chancing one of them popping their head out the window and spotting him. Things would get ugly
