Emilio’s POV
My whole body froze.
I turned slowly, almost scared I was imagining it, and there he was.
Sinclair.
He was leaning against a sleek black motorcycle like he belonged there—like the whole street was just a background made for him. He wore a black leather jacket that hugged his shoulders perfectly, the kind that looked worn-in but expensive. His jeans were dark and ripped at the knees, and his boots were heavy enough to make a soft thud each time he shifted his weight.
The moonlight caught on the metal of his eyebrow piercing, making it flash for a second. His hair was a mess in that intentional way, and his eyes… God. They looked even darker at night, like they swallowed whatever little light the street had left.
He looked beyond hot.
Dangerous hot.
The kind of hot that
