Kaylee's Keeper
“In nervous fascination, she watched as he slid a black leather sleeve over each arm in turn. Both sleeves were lined with buckles and closed at the end, leaving her hands fully enclosed in fingerless pockets. “Wh-what…?”“Were you given permission to speak?”His hands were never anything but calm, firm but not rough as he tightened down the buckles, securing the sleeves in place. His voice, however, was cool and detached. He was angry with her—her gut clenched in so hard it almost hurt—but really..., how could she blame him? She had burst into his office as if she had the right, disrupting his scene with one client and cutting in front of two others. As if she was something special. As if she was his responsibility. As if she was just plain his.“I’m sorry,” she whispered, burning tears building in her eyes. “I really am. Please don’t be angry with me.”His hands paused in the midst of tightening down the last buckle and he straightened slowly, then sighed again. It sounded heavy.MoreLess
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