Lauren
The movie played on the screen, a dull hum of sound and color, but I barely noticed. My gaze was fixed on the far end of the couch where Alexander sat, his posture deceptively relaxed, one arm draped over the back of the sofa.
His dark hair, slightly tousled, caught the soft glow of the television, and the sharp angles of his face—chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, and the faint shadow of stubble—kept pulling my gaze back to him.
A black T-shirt clung to his broad chest and powerful shoulders, the fabric hinting at muscles that moved with quiet strength. His long legs stretched out in front of him, dark jeans hugging the defined lines of his thighs.
Even sitting still, his deep, piercing eyes held a quiet intensity that made the air between us feel heavier. Every inch of him seemed
