When Your Eyes Linger Novels & Stories

Marcus stared at me immediately. There were flashes of shock, fear, and uneasiness in his eyes. I forced out a smile. "You know what I'm like. I've never lied to you. Besides, I don't know how to act. After all, you of all people know how tiring it is to put up an act, right?" Marcus didn't doubt me at all. He believed every word I said, just like how I once believed he'd remain loyal to me forever.

My gaze sweeps over it all, yet none of it holds my attention. My mind drifts elsewhere, still shackled to the memory of her. Those ice-blue eyes haunt me, burning brighter than the chandeliers overhead. Eyes that don’t need words to speak—they convey volumes, effortlessly pulling me into their depths even when she remains silent. I take a slow sip of the champagne, the fizz a pale distraction against the turmoil in my chest. I should look away and force myself to engage with the present, but I can’t. Her presence lingers, a ghostly imprint on my thoughts, and no amount of distance seems enough to sever the connection.

I was falling for him more and more, and every tender touch, every lingering look, only pulled me deeper into this unspoken desire. His eyes held mine for a few heart-stopping seconds. I watched as his gaze slowly drifted to my parted lips, and mine instinctively found his. He blinked slowly, a soft frown creasing his forehead, as if puzzled by his own thoughts. Our eyes locked again, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. His gaze was different from any I had seen before—intense, searching, almost passionate. I didn’t want him to look away, to break this spell we were under.

You know when your mind sees something that is so utterly beautiful, so unworldly that it distinctively focuses on the pinnacle of its interest, zeroing in on that magnificent sight, having everything else blur in the background? That's what Nate's eyes did to me. The golden, caramel orbs locked on mine and it was all I could see. His eyes are red rimmed as if the surgery was still taken its toll but his face is bare and so responsive. The butterflies, the ones that have become paralyzed a few weeks back, twitch and flutter when Nate's pupils dilate and his clear, breathtaking eyes roam around my face before dropping down my body.

I figured that the only way to make this work is to pretend that any of these things do not even exist and make sure that I remain as patient as possible. "So what exactly did you want to see me for is this only all a fluke?" I inquired. I didn't bother to say anything, does she kept staring at me without giving me a tangible reason. "I want to an eye to work together once more."

Emma stood before the tall mirror in the guest room, the soft glow of dawn falling over her reflection. Her eyes were clearer now, sharpened by truths she could no longer ignore. The weight she’d carried for ten years had finally begun to lift, but beneath it remained something raw. Something still unfinished. The memories hadn’t faded they had simply waited, just like she had.

I tell her, smiling at her and feeling touched. She returns the smile, and for a moment, our eyes are locked onto each other, with neither of us breaking eye contact. Our gazes linger on each other for several seconds longer than can be considered normal, and I fleetingly think to myself that I could get lost in her beautiful eyes, but then, the mood is broken when we’re interrupted by the bartender.

He looked dangerous. His walk was steady, the golden boy grace in every stride. But it was his eyes that stopped my breath. From the second he emerged, he didn't look at the flashing bulbs or the editors scribbling in their notebooks. His gaze was hooked on mine, a physical tether stretching across the room. As he reached the edge of the runway, directly in front of me, he stopped. He stood there for five long seconds, his chest rising and falling, his eyes burning into mine with a silent, possessive intensity.

I trаіlеd off, my eyes drорріng dоwn avoiding the lооk оf ріtу соntаіnеd іn Elijah’s еуеѕ. I hаd dеlіbеrаtеlу lеft оut the Lаurеn раrt, tоо сhоkеd uр tо get thе words out. I dіdn’t wаnt tо see the соnfіrmаtіоn іn Elіjаh’ѕ еуеѕ that this wаѕ bаd. Fоr nоw I juѕt nееdеd to lосk that part аwау, tо dеаl wіth іt іn my own way.

Stormrider lingered at the doorway, eyes quietly tracing Lucien's expression, searching for a clue—anything that might betray what he was feeling. His gaze swept over his features, catching the twitch of a jaw, the tightness around his eyes—signs of unrest he didn’t voice. He didn't want to announce himself or to call him off of his trance. But instead, he stood glued to the spot, reading the weariness in his shoulders and the storm tucked behind his eyes.