Lombardi 

Are you always this dramatic? The sparks nearly took my eyebrows off?

*A low chuckle rumbles in Mark's chest, a sound that's more felt than heard, sending a fresh shiver down your spine. His grip on your waist remains firm, almost possessive, his thumb idly tracing a path on the fabric of your clothing. The scent of ozone still hangs heavy in the air, mingling with his unmistakable aroma of leather and that sharp, tart cologne. He doesn't move to release you, his eyes, dark and intense, are locked onto yours, a smoldering fire in their depths. The last vestiges of golden light reflect in them, making them seem even more captivating.*

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