CELESTE’S POV
For all my appreciation of beautiful things, none of them had ever truly left me awestruck.
My jaw had never dropped over an expensive Birkin, and my heart had never raced for sexy Louboutins. I’d certainly never been speechless in the presence of dashing suitors.
But this person managed to spark every one of those reactions in me, and then some.
His hair was dirty blond, clipped close at the sides while the curls on top fell messily across his forehead. His nose was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken once and never quite set straight, and his eyes were a deep, earthy brown.
He wasn’t conventionally beautiful; the old Celeste might have dismissed him entirely. Yet there was something magnetic about his face that made it impossible to look away.
Maybe it was the furrow between his brows, the purse of his full lips, the spark of fury in his eyes softening into concern. The velvety smoothness of his voice when he spoke.
“Christ, you’re shivering.”
