Submission at Gunpoint

Tessa

His large, calloused hands don't stop moving. The thick wool of the stolen sweater scrapes against my chin before Roman pulls it entirely over my head, tossing it onto the floorboards. Cold air hits my bare skin, but it is nothing compared to the freezing dread rushing through my veins. I am terrified of him. I despise the dark, hungry look shining in his icy blue eyes, tracking every inch