"Not for me" was the voice, that specific voice, capable of making thunder seem insufficient for rainy days. The tone that fired the heart, making it throb in the throat.
Those were the vibrations of Damon Banks's voice.
She looked up into the man's eyes. It was impossible not to want to spend hours watching those tourmalines shine. She had danger in his eyes, there were shadows, she had fears and traumas.
But most of all, she had a magnet.
"Hi" she murmured.
"Hi, Miss Collins," he leaned against the doorframe and observed the woman before him.
Damon could easily say that Arabella shined brighter than all the lights in the city.
"I think you are a little drunk" she could say, just analyzing the man's slurred speech and slightly reddened eyes.
The truth about Banks was that he blame
