We stared at each other as her honeyed hair spilled over each shoulder like liquid gold. Her eyes flashed, but it was more than just anger. More than aggravation. Pain ringed her irises—a look I’d become all too familiar with. That catastrophic shoulder massage, for one. And then the altercation on the deck when she’d thought I was about to put my fist through her face. Fuck. It haunted me.
