When Regret Isn't Enough
"Oh, you're not sleeping yet?"
With a deep breath, he opened his eyes and took in the young lady sitting on the bed. His bed, to be exact. She wasn't a hardship to look at, not at all; as a matter of fact, he almost couldn't believe it.
Olivia had dark brown hair, almost black, that hung long and flowed around her jaw and shoulders. Her deep bronze skin, with high cheekbones drawn in, either signified arousal or distress. And then there were those slay-me eyes. They were the color of her hair, with a twist, but not exactly; they had the color of whiskey. Collin could see she needed him to reassure her, but he didn't have any reassurance.
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