KARIMA HEART
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice strangely calmer now, curiosity slowly swallowing the anger I’d been holding on to.
He didn’t answer. Instead, I felt his hand sneak around my waist, pulling me closer.
I slammed against his chest: hard, solid, like cement. For a second I froze there in the darkness, unable to move. I was practically straining to catch even a glimpse of his face. He, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit bothered.
His fingers strolled down my cheek, slowly and deliberately, like he already knew the exact map of my face. Every line, every angle, nothing uncertain in the way he touched me.
And me? I was just left to my own wild imagination.
“Let go of me. Right now,” I barked, but the strain in my voice betrayed me. Anyone who could hear it woul
