He’s dangerous. I feel it. When he looks at me with the truth in his eyes, I can’t control the electric shiver that rolls through my body. What is he hiding?He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know I’m moody. And we don’t run in the same circles. He’s not aware of my reputation for being cold and heartless. But his sharp eyes cut me. They see right through me. His eyes know me, even if he doesn’t.I’m not cold, I’m moody. I’m an artist... moreHe’s dangerous. I feel it. When he looks at me with the truth in his eyes, I can’t control the electric shiver that rolls through my body. What is he hiding?He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know I’m moody. And we don’t run in the same circles. He’s not aware of my reputation for being cold and heartless. But his sharp eyes cut me. They see right through me. His eyes know me, even if he doesn’t.I’m not cold, I’m moody. I’m an artist. Expressing myself comes with the territory, even when reality is tough and the truth hurts.But I don’t know his truth. I don’t know what he did to get those scars. Whatever it was, it wasn’t innocent.I can’t stop thinking about his hands. So strong and capable, so rough, so gentle… so dirty… They’re the hands of a criminal. less
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