"A ghost of a smile touched his lips, a rare and unsettling sight. 'Passion,' he echoed, the word a low growl in his throat. 'You have no idea what passion truly is.'Clara shivered, though whether from the cold or his intense gaze, he couldn't tell. 'Maybe not,' she conceded, her voice barely above a whisper. 'But I'd like to.'The air crackled between them, thick with unspoken desires and dangerous possibilities. He could feel himself teetering on the edge of something, something he knew he shouldn't want, something he knew he couldn't resist.He leaned closer, his blue eyes locking onto hers. 'Be careful what you wish for, Clara,' he murmured, his breath ghosting across her cheek. 'Some passions consume you whole.'A drop of rain trickled down her face, and he reached out, his fingers brushing against her skin as he wiped it away. The contact was electric, sending a jolt through him that he hadn't felt in years. He wanted to touch her more, to feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips, to drown in the warmth of her gaze.But he pulled back, a dark cloud settling over his features. He couldn't. He wouldn't. She was too innocent, too pure. And he... he was a storm waiting to happen.'Go home, Clara,' he said, his voice harsh. 'Before you get caught in the rain.'"
