Third Eye P.I.
But tonight, he looked like a god, standing aglow beneath the streetlight that illuminated his magnificently flawless body against the midnight sky.
Clearly annoyed, Jack glared expectantly at Eryn with his hands casually stuffed into his jean pockets. His tight, black, Guns and Roses t-shirt accentuated bulging biceps that glistened in the moonlight, and his scruffy, shoulder-length, dark hair framed his unshaven, olive toned face. The entire package rivalled that of any Greek god.
The van rocked as Eryn composed herself, grabbed on to the luggage rack, stretching as tall as her 5'7" body would allow.
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