The sheriff just stared into Micah's kitty-cat eyes and shook his head. I put my free hand around his upper chest, holding us tight together. Micah pulled me in against his body, hugging me loosely to his side. I looked at him.
That's not control, not really. I wrapped my arms around him, held him tight, rested my forehead in the bend of his neck, rubbed my face against the incredible smoothness of his skin. I just squatted down beside him, trying not to touch the ground any more than I had to, and touched his arm. I didn't like to have that kind of control over anyone.
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