I reached my hand out, and Henry grabbed it, putting his cheek against my hand and snuggling into it.
"You don't care. But I do." I narrowed my eyes.
"Are you insulting me? Why would I need control over your body when I already have control over your soul?" I asked.
The body-control thing wasn't something my paranoid brain had come up with because I was bored or anything—the last time I had seen red eyes that weren't mine, they belonged to a body I was indeed able to control.
And it was because of me, that this body was shot to death.
I don't want to risk something like this repeating itself, especially with Henry.
Henry grabbed my wrist and pulled me to him. I fell into his lap, straddling him.
"Why not control my body as well when you already have my soul?" He asked, his nose resting beside mine as our lips grazed.
He still held my wrist, which he had grabbed, spread out together with his arm, making anyone who would come in think we were dancing.
