He still hadn’t moved. His hand stayed on my wrist, firm but gentle, his eyes fixed on mine like he was trying to hold himself together.

I could feel his pulse against my skin and every second it stayed there made my chest tighten.

“Let me go,” I whispered, though I didn’t mean it.

His grip loosened slightly. “If I do,” he murmured, “you’re going to regret it.”

I shook my head, as my voice trembled. “No, I won’t.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “You ...