His inky black hair was messy, curling into his face, and matched his eyes that were still bearing down on me. They were so dark that they reminded me of a stormy night when the sky was so black that it swallowed the light of the stars. He was tall, the line of his jaw was strong and clean-shaven, and his full lips pursed as he searched over my face. He was beautiful, although harsh, and I hated the way he was looking at me.
