Knowing it wouldn’t be wise to leave the room wearing the pathetic excuse for pajamas that Edward bought me, I make a beeline for the bathroom. His fingers wrap around my elbow as I reach the doorway, preventing me from my makeshift escape. “Don’t touch me, Edward,” I hiss.
His face is concerned and he doesn’t release his grip. “Please let me explain,” he pleads.
I take a deep breath and steel myself to give him a piece of my mind. Instead, tears of frustration pour down my cheeks. His arms envelope me and I instinctually push on his chest, trying to make him release me but praying that he doesn’t. “Let me go,” I demand half-heartedly.
“Don’t do this,” he whispers. He hugs me tighter and my body molds to his. There is comfort in his embrace even though I’m still upset. The urge to kick him in the balls exists and my knee twitches at the thought.
“Why didn’t you tell me,” I mumble into his chest.
“I didn’t think it was important.”