I don’t like him using my real name. I want to be Hurricane again. “Caleb—” “Just stop,” he growls, turning to look at me. His eyes are so dark, almost obsidian. It’s a beautiful combination with his reddish-brown hair. Mix in his cheekbones, his pouty lips, and the fuck-all-the-way-off energy oozing from his pores, and I’m ready to fight a whimper as he leans in. “You see what you’re doing here? You’re making it worse. Just go.”
