His hand was still on me. Firm, steady, possessive. Just like it always was. For a second, I forgot to breathe. My pulse raced, my breath unsteady as if I had just ran a raise.
I took his hand off slowly, forcing myself to turn around and face him. The hallway was dim, lit only by the thin strip of light from a flickering bulb above. It wasn't bright enough to see him clearly, but I could make out the sharp edges of his jaw, the outline of his shoulders, the shadowed dip of his throat.
Even in the dark, Alpha Dawn had a way of filling a room. He had a way of making everything else fade.
His shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the top, the collar rumpled like he hadn't bothered to fix it. His hair, usually sleek and perfectly combed, fell over his forehead in messy waves. I found myself staring at it, at the way a few strands brushed against his brow.
