He was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, patiently waiting for her to look at him. For a brief moment, Jac wished she’d never asked for a light. Darkness was preferable.
Her assassin was gorgeous.
Even though he was sitting down, she could tell he was tall. His shoulders were encased in leather and appeared solid and very wide. His jaw was square and covered with a light stubble that made him look sexy. His skin was swarthy, whether it was tanned or part of his heritage, she couldn’t be sure, but if she was a betting gal, she’d bet he was of Mediterranean descent. His nose was straight, his cheekbones high. But it was his eyes that captured her.
Dark and fathomless, they seemed to look within her all the way to her very soul. They were like the sea on a moonless night, cold and unforgiving. She shivered.
He reached out and she flinched back in spite of her resolve to be brave. He didn’t touch her. Instead, he grabbed the blanket that had been tossed to the end of the sofa in their struggle. Shaking it out, he tucked it carefully around her without actually touching her.
“Who are you?” She could hear the slight quiver in her voice and hated herself for it. She didn’t want to appear weak.
That didn’t tell her much, except that maybe she was right about his profession. Blade was the perfect name for an assassin. It suited him somehow. Maybe it was all the black leather and his sharp features.
His hair was past his shoulders and tied back at his neck. When he’d reached for the blanket it had fallen over his shoulder. The light had shined on the black mass, highlighting some strands that appeared to be almost a midnight blue.
She shook her head to clear it. “That doesn’t tell me much.” She was proud that her voice was steady this time, her reply almost tart in tone.
He raised his hand and slowly moved it toward her. This time she didn’t flinch, but met his gaze straight on. His fingers cupped her chin, his thumb stroking over her bottom lip in a sensual caress.