53 — Because it hurts.

Desmond sets me down, still holding my arms. His hands are firm on my skin, but his touch doesn't hurt me. What really hurts is the way he's looking at me right now.

“I asked what you're doing.” He insists, his deep voice scratching my ears.

I feel tears threatening to wet my eyes.

“Rosalie-”

“Let me go!” I try to wriggle free, but he just holds on tighter and brings my body against his. It makes