~HUNTER'S POV~

I've always been in control. My time. My actions. My emotions. I've spent years mastering the art of detachment, perfecting it to the point where even I forgot what it was like to feel something raw.

But now... Now I can't stop staring at my hand.

The hand that touched her. That brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, grazing the curve of her cheekbone like it belonged there.

I flex my fingers as if that will erase the memory. It doesn't.

I'm halfway back to the ...