Thankfully, Preston Keaton stopped.
Evelyn Grant gasped for air, collapsing into the crook of his shoulder. She hugged his neck tightly, pressing the 'injured' part of her body against his chest, afraid he would change his mind and start tormenting her again.
'When it came to this, he was utterly willful, completely without restraint.'
'He was always finding new ways to torture her.'
Preston held the ID he had found in her coat, his voice magnetic and deep, seemingly unaffected by what had just happened. "I'm confiscating your ID. I'll give it back when you're leaving Veridia."
Evelyn Grant gave up struggling. "Okay."
She felt his arousal and didn't dare move, remaining obediently in his arms. Her voice was soft and aggrieved. "It's hot. I don't want you to hold me."
Preston couldn't be bothered to figure out if she really meant it was too hot, or if there was another reason.
