My eyes traced over his pale white features: the hard square of his jaw, the softer curve of his full lips—twisted up into a smile now, the straight line of his nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the smooth marble span of his forehead—partially obscured by a tangle of rain-darkened bronze hair.… I saved his eyes for last, knowing that when I looked into them I was likely to lose my train of thought. They were wide, warm with liquid gold, and framed by a thick fringe of black lashes. Staring into his eyes always made me feel extraordinary—sort of like my bones were turning spongy. I was
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