“Every time I set eyes on Macon Saint, the reaction was visceral, a punch to the solar plexus. He was gorgeous, sure, but it was his eyes that did it. They burned as if he could strip the skin from my bones and rip right into the heart of me. Mama always said I was fanciful with my words, but that was the truth of it: locking gazes with Macon was like forging into an angry storm. You'd come out of it weak, breathless, and a little bruised.”
Book:Dear Enemy