Hitch Kissing Quotes

His breath hitched, and he regarded me hungrily. “You’re playing with fire, you know that?” “That’s weird, considering you’re an ice prin—” I didn’t get any further, as Ash leaned in and kissed me.

And what do you want right now?" Right now I itch to heal his wounds and forget my own. He touches my cheek with the tips of his fingers. My breath hitches. "Do you want to kiss me, Alex?" I whisper. "Dios mio, I want to kiss you ... to taste your lips, your tongue." He gently traces my lips withthe tips of his fingers. "Do you want me to kiss you? Nobody else would know but the two of us.

I stepped close to him, placing a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat under his shirt. "I trust you," I said, rising so our faces were inches apart, trailing my fingers down his stomach. "I know you'll find a way." His breath hitched, and he regarded me hungrily. "You're playing with fire, you know that?" "That's weird, considering you're an ice prin-" I didn't get any further, as Ash leaned in and kissed me. I looped my arms around his neck as his snaked around my waist, and for a few moments the cold couldn't touch me.

It's funny," she said, with a strange hitch in her voice, "but I never wanted to be tied to anyone. Never wanted to be owned or to belong to another person. But now I realize that belonging with someone is completely different. I belong with you, Con." "And I with you." He kissed her, sealing them together with a bond she didn't mind, and one that would never be broken.

Going to miss this," he said as he kissed my cheeks, my jaw, my eyelids. "The way you taste." He set his lips to the hollow beneath my ear. "The way you smell." His hands slid up my back. "The way you feel." My breath hitched as his hips settled against mine. Then he drew back, searching my eyes. "I wanted more for you," he said. "A white veil in your hair. Vows we could keep.

I can leave.” Yet, as he speaks, his body contradicts him. He continues to kiss me. His hand hitches up my shirt, sliding over the plane of my stomach. How I’ve longed for him to touch me there again… “Leave, and I will find you,” I whisper breathlessly in reply. “Leave me here, unsatisfied and yearning, and I will hunt you down, Eldas.

I trust you,” I said, rising so our faces were inches apart, trailing my fingers down his stomach. “I know you'll find a way.” His breath hitched, and he regarded me hungrily. “You're playing with fire, you know that?” “That's weird, considering you're an ice prin—” I didn't get any further, as Ash leaned in and kissed me.

He says softly, "I don't just want you in my dreams, baby. Been wanting you a long while." fiddle sticks I whisper, "Niki." He puts his lips close to mine and breathes deep, "You're all I think about." I feel the tingles start in my in my nose. A sure sign I'm going to bawl. "Stop." But he just keeps coming with the sweet, "I thought I needed a woman like you. Turns out I just needed you." My breath hitches. "Stop." What he says next melts my frozen heart. "You're it, Tina." I no longer have doubts My heart skips a beat and I whisper fiercely, "I want to kiss you. Real bad.

Kiss me again,” I demand breathlessly. “Kiss me like you did that night in the castle. Let’s give in to this waking dream, Eldas.” “No,” he murmurs. Everything in me shudders at his denial. But then he pulls me toward him, snaring me with the lightest touch imaginable. “I will not kiss you like I did then.” My breath hitches. Through the fan of my lashes I watch him lean forward. “I will kiss you better.

Incidentally, I have also learned a bit about the importance of avoiding feminine embarrassment ('Daddy,' wrote Sophia when she enrolled at the New School where I teach, 'people will ask "why is old Christopher Hitchens kissing that girl?"') and shall now cease and desist.

...she wanted him to feel like she did, like he'd done something forbidden, wanted to give him something he'd like and really wasn't supposed to have, something that would feel wrong, something he wanted. "Kiss me again," she whispered, reaching up, her fingers sliding through his hair. She almost didn't know herself as she moved against him. He bent helplessly toward her. She bit her tongue. Bit it hard, the pain chasing through her nerve endings and alchemizing into something close to pleasure. When her mouth opened under his, it was flooded with welling blood. He groaned at the taste of it, red eyes going wide with surprise and something like fear. His hand gripped her arms as he pushed her body back against the brick of the wall, holding her in place. He'd been careful before, but he wasn't being careful now as he licked her mouth; and it amazed her as much as it terrified her. He kissed her ferociously, savagely, their lips sliding together with bruising fervor. The pain in her tongue became a distant throbbing. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his back, their bodies pressed so close that he must have felt every hitch in her breath, every shuddering beat or her heart. And as scared of him as she had been, right then she was more frightened of herself. Gavriel reeled back from her, lips ruddy. He wiped his mouth against the back of his hand, her blood smearing over his skin. Gazing at her for a long moment with something like horror, as though he was seeing her for the first time, he spoke. "You are more dangerous than daybreak.

This is what true pleasure feels like. It’s not just the softness of a kiss. It’s not just the delicate touch of hands on breasts and tongues on skin. It’s the bite of pain, the threat of danger, the risk taken in dancing with the devil. I come hard against Zeth’s mouth. He leans into it, growling and sucking and licking as I scream out my release, hands locked on my hips, pulling me into his face.  “Fuck, Zeth! Stop! Please stop!” His back hitches as he laughs, still teasing me with his tongue. My legs scrabble against the bed, desperately trying to escape the intense post-orgasm rushes. He gets up after that, raising one eyebrow at me.

Thomas moves even closer until their faces were less than an inch apart, their breath mixed and harsh. He sees Taylor’s eyes move to his lips. Thomas’s breath hitches. He couldn’t resist darting his eyes lower as well to look at Taylor’s pink full lips. Taylor licks them, then parts them slightly. Almost like he was begging to be kissed. “Fuck it” Thomas says before leaning to crush their mouths together.

A kiss, he said, is a conversation. Easing closer, he continued to speak as he caressed her cheeks with featherlight stokes of his thumbs. "A first kiss", his lips neared hers, is an introduction and then his mouth brushed against hers. The contact sparked, sharp and bright like lightning, yet his lips were soft, unexpectedly so. Her breath caught the same instant his did. Against her mouth he whispered "That was Hello" His breath mingled with hers as he waited, his lips so close she could feel their warmth. For a moment she simply breathed him in growing heady on the scent of him and the tight anticipation gathering in her belly. Then she understood. Nerves fluttering, she brushed her lips across his as he had done. Again his breath hitched, as if he too felt that same spark, that hot need. Her eyes drifted closed and his voice poured over her like warm cream. "This is, 'I'm Jack'.

His vulnerability allowed me to let my guard down, and gently and methodically, he tore apart my well-constructed dam. Waves of tender feelings were lapping over the top and slipping through the cracks. The feelings flooded through and spilled into me. It was frightening opening myself up to feel love for someone again. My heart pounded hard and thudded audibly in my chest. I was sure he could hear it. Ren’s expression changed as he watched my face. His look of sadness was replaced by one of concern for me. What was the next step? What should I do? What do I say? How do I share what I’m feeling? I remembered watching romance movies with my mom, and our favorite saying was “shut up and kiss her already!” We’d both get frustrated when the hero or heroine wouldn’t do what was so obvious to the two of us, and as soon as a tense, romantic moment occurred, we’d both repeat our mantra. I could hear my mom’s humor-filled voice in my mind giving me the same advice: “Kells, shut up and kiss him already!” So, I got a grip on myself, and before I changed my mind, I leaned over and kissed him. He froze. He didn’t kiss me back. He didn’t push me away. He just stopped…moving. I pulled back, saw the shock on his face, and instantly regretted my boldness. I stood up and walked away, embarrassed. I wanted to put some distance between us as I frantically tried to rebuild the walls around my heart. I heard him move. He slid his hand under my elbow and turned me around. I couldn’t look at him. I just stared at his bare feet. He put a finger under my chin and tried to nudge my head up, but I still refused to meet his gaze. “Kelsey. Look at me.” Lifting my eyes, they traveled from his feet to a white button in the middle of his shirt. “Look at me.” My eyes continued their journey. They drifted past the golden-bronze skin of his chest, his throat, and then settled on his beautiful face. His cobalt blue eyes searched mine, questioning. He took a step closer. My breath hitched in my throat. Reaching out a hand, he slid it around my waist slowly. His other hand cupped my chin. Still watching my face, he placed his palm lightly on my cheek and traced the arch of my cheekbone with his thumb. The touch was sweet, hesitant, and careful, the way you might try to touch a frightened doe. His face was full of wonder and awareness. I quivered. He paused just a moment more, then smiled tenderly, dipped is head, and brushed his lips lightly against mine. He kissed me softly, tentatively, just a mere whisper of a kiss. His other hand slid down to my waist too. I timidly touched his arms with my fingertips. He was warm, and his skin was smooth. He gently pulled me closer and pressed me lightly against his chest. I gripped his arms. He sighed with pleasure, and deepened the kiss. I melted into him. How was I breathing? His summery sandalwood scent surrounded me. Everywhere he touched me, I felt tingly and alive. I clutched his arms fervently. His lips never leaving mine, Ren took both of my arms and wrapped them, one by one, around his neck. Then he trailed one of his hands down my bare arm to my waist while the other slid into my hair. Before I realized what he was planning to do, he picked me up with one arm and crushed me to his chest. I have no idea how long we kissed. It felt like a mere second, and it also felt like forever. My bare feet were dangling several inches from the floor. He was holding all my body weight easily with one arm. I buried my fingers into his hair and felt a rumble in his chest. It was similar to the purring sound he made as a tiger. After that, all coherent thought fled and time stopped.

He cupped my face gently in his hands, holding it in place. My breath hitched in my lungs as he leaned in to drop a soft kiss on my lips. Where the other kisses we had shared ignited the lust we felt for each other, this kiss was something entirely different. The softness of his lips caressed mine as his tongue slowly slid into my mouth. He explored my mouth leisurely, never increasing the intensity. It was as if he was trying to memorize every detail and was meticulous with his mission. The tenderness of his mouth made my heart ache and I wished it would never end.

Suddenly, she was complicated again. Complicated, getting dangerously attached. She was not fine. She wanted to kiss him. They hadn't actually done that. And she knew why she'd avoided it. Because she was afraid he might taste her feelings on her tongue. Because she was tumbling headfirst into a connection that probably wasn't as deep on his end. She wondered why he hadn't kissed her. He stepped closer, cradling her jaw in his hands, "Hey button, what's wrong?" Her breath hitched like she might cry, which she absolutely would not do. Instead, she would take a breath and tell him calmly that they should forget about tonight because it was already messing with her head. That he should stop holding her like someone precious.

River doesn’t let me finish my sentence as he gently pushes me back against the rail. His arms are extended on either side of me, he’s surrounding me, caging me in, but once again, I don’t feel trapped. He never moves his lips away from my neck as he repositions us. My breath is hitched and my heartbeat has doubled as I tilt my head back to allow him full access to my neck. He’s softly running a trail of kisses from my neck up to my mouth, slowly, lightly licking, softly sucking, until his lips finally meet mine.

Hi...ah..." What did she call him? Honey? Babe? Darling? "...Humraaz." The Urdu term of endearment came out before she could stop it. Liam's gaze shifted to her, and his face softened. Before he could ask her what it meant and ruin the performance, she rose up on her toes, pressed her hands against his chest, and kissed him. Without hesitation, Liam wrapped one arm around her waist, pressed his mouth against hers, and bent her over backward in a full-on movie kiss. Her breath hitched and her lips softened. His lips were firm and cool and tasted of coffee and something sweet. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and for a moment she thought her heart had stopped. But it didn't matter. Upside down, in front of her work colleagues, she was the woman she always wanted to be. Then she was up and back on her feet, lips tingling, an ache of desire between her thighs. "What does it mean?" he murmured gently. "The one with whom we share our secrets." "Then I am your humraaz," he said. "And you are mine.

So if I asked you to wear my skirt and juggle my high heels, you would?” I joked. I could only see Andrew's face in profile, but a grin overtook his earlier grim expression, and he laughed. “I draw the line at wearing women’s clothing.” “Are you sure?” I whispered seductively, nibbling on his earlobe. “That’s cheating,” he said, his breath hitching. I kissed down his neck. “If all else fails, I’ll never rule out using my womanly wiles.” “I refuse to be used as a pawn by my devious lover,” he countered, grinning. I abruptly pulled away from him. “Ah, well, it never hurts to try.

West’s mouth slid from hers and followed the line of her throat. Finding the throb of her pulse, he kissed and nuzzled it ardently. “You’re not a possession,” he said raggedly. “You can’t be passed from one man to another like a painting or an antique vase.” Her voice was faint. “That’s not how it is.” “Has he told you he wants you?” “Not the way you mean. He . . . he’s a gentleman . . .” “I want you with my entire body.” West dragged his mouth over hers, shaping her lips before settling in for a rough and ardent kiss. He hitched her up against him until her toes barely touched the floor. “You’re all I think about. You’re all I see. You’re the center of a star, and the force of gravity keeps pulling me closer, and I don’t give a damn that I’m about to be incinerated.” He rested his forehead against hers, panting. “That’s what he should tell you.

The money hits the floor, and my hands immediately frame her face. She has skin so soft that I worry about damaging her with a gentle touch. Her breathing hitches as my lips come close to hers. I’m going to kiss her. “Tell me I’m who you want.” So I know there are no mistakes. Her nose slides against mine as she slowly nods. “I don’t want anyone else.” God help us both for her allowing the devil permission.

Going to miss this,” he said as he kissed my cheeks, my jaw, my eyelids. “The way you taste.” He set his lips to the hollow beneath my ear. “The way you smell.” His hands slid up my back. “The way you feel.” My breath hitched as his hips settled against mine. Then he drew back, searching my eyes. “I wanted more for you,” he said. “A white veil in your hair. Vows we could keep.” “A proper wedding night? Just tell me this isn’t goodbye. That’s the only vow I need.” “I love you, Alina.

You are a bright light, Elli.’ His own breath hitches, a sound that I cannot quite grasp. His eyes are darkening, his lips tightening. His hands grasp me tighter and he moves closer, his mouth inches from mine, I can almost taste the sweetness and saltiness of his scent, the rich coffee beans and sugar, the vague spearmint. I say nothing, I’m not even sure I’m breathing. ‘You shouldn’t have to see such pain, such blackness. You are too pure.’ His lips do not collide with mine, his skin does not brush against me, only his voice sends a shiver down every notch in my spine, trailing goose bumps over my skin. He tilts his head to the side, his lips gently brushing against my ear. And that is all. I’m not good enough for him. I’m not. That’s why… that’s why… ‘Too pure…

Is it true?” I ask him. “Is what true?” His eyes are the color of honey. These are the eyes I remember from my dreams. “That you still love me,” I say, breathless. “I need to know.” Alex nods. He reaches out and touches my face—barely skimming my cheekbone and brushing away a bit of my hair. “It’s true.” “But . . . I’ve changed,” I say. “And you’ve changed.” “That’s true too,” he says quietly. I look at the scar on his face, stretching from his left eye to his jawline, and something hitches in my chest. “So what now?” I ask him. The light is too bright; the day feels as though it’s merging into dream. “Do you love me?” Alex asks. And I could cry; I could press my face into his chest and breathe in, and pretend that nothing has changed, that everything will be perfect and whole and healed again. But I can’t. I know I can’t. “I never stopped.” I look away from him. I look at Grace, and the high grass littered with the wounded and the dead. I think of Julian, and his clear blue eyes, his patience and goodness. I think of all the fighting we’ve done, and all the fighting we have yet to do. I take a deep breath. “But it’s more complicated than that.” Alex reaches out and places his hands on my shoulders. “I’m not going to run away again,” he says. “I don’t want you to,” I tell him. His fingers find my cheek, and I rest for a second against his palm, letting the pain of the past few months flow out of me, letting him turn my head toward his. Then he bends down and kisses me: light and perfect, his lips just barely meeting mine, a kiss that promises renewal.

Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It's disgusting, and I can't stop.' I am shocked in to silence. 'Maybe you should shoot me after all,' he says, covering his face with one long-fingered hand. ... He doesn't look up as I walk around the desk to him. I place the tip of the blade against the bottom of his chin, as I did the day before in the hall, and I tilt his face toward mine. He shifts his gaze with obvious reluctance. The horror and shame on his face look entirely too real. Suddenly, I am not so sure what to believe. I lean toward him, close enough for a kiss. His eyes widen. The look in his face is some commingling of panic and desire. It is a heady feeling, having power over someone. Over Cardan, who I never thought had any feelings at all. 'You really do want me,' I say, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath as it hitches. 'And you hate it.' I change the angle of the knife, turning it so it's against his neck. He doesn't look nearly as alarmed by that as I might expect. Not nearly as alarmed as when I bring my mouth to his.

My pulse roared like a raging river in response, but I held back. I slipped my hand into her hair, angling her face toward mine, savoring each hitch in her breath, each jump of my heart. It seemed like we’d waited a millennium to get here. And I languished in the slight teasing before our kiss. I brushed my lips against hers, once, twice. Each pass gaining the slightest bit of pressure. I moved before our mouths made that final contact, kissing the corner of her lips, her cheek, along the underside of her jaw. I drew slow circles down the side of her bodice and she arched into my touch, urging me lower. I wanted to slide my fingers along the silkiness of her stockings, feel the layers of her full skirts brush over my skin as I explored her body the way she seemed to beg me to. I brought my mouth back to hers and kissed her, slow and languorously, savoring the feel of her.

What were you doing with her?” The words burst from my lips. Before I can take them back, he stares at me. I stare back at him as the silence stretches onwards. We’re both stiff. He says nothing. “Maybe I should ask you the same thing.” I shake my head, my nails digging into my palms. Then before I can react, he has pushed me roughly up the wall, his eyes now dark and fiery, like a storm ready to unleash itself. Good. He’s mad too. His hands force me to the wall as he presses his body against mine. The intensity of the move, the feel of him makes my breath hitch. “Get off me,” I seethe, pounding my fists into his chest but Adrian keeps me locked in place, so that his breath caresses my ear. “Were you guys too rushed?’ He mocks. “Too desperate to book a hotel room?” I can barely stifle a disgusted snort. “What are you talking about?” Fury pumps through my head. “A hotel room? What kind of girl do you think I am—mmf?” He moves against me, moving to kiss me. The moment where his lips meet mine hard and unyielding. He tastes of smoke and lipgloss—and I’m reminded of the scene earlier where he and Lauren got out of the closet together. Disgust fills me as I squirm in his arms. He groans, fire burning in his voice. “You want me, you’re trying to hide from it.” “No,” I try to bite the words at him but it comes out strangled. I try to push him away but before I have to, he releases me. I try to put as much distance between him and myself, shaking. Loathing is my voice. "Get away from me. I hate you." He swallows and looks away, his breathing slowing. He pushes himself from the wall, still very pale. Then closing his eyes and turning, he starts walking away, heading towards the parking lot. "I hate you!" I scream again behind him. Adrian stops for a moment, his back to me. “I’ve told you from the very beginning. You should.” He keeps on walking, never glancing back.

I don’t want to relax. I don’t want to … oh, dear Lord.” He had bent his head to her throat, searching for the visible thrum of her pulse. A light, hot shock went through her. “Don’t do that,” she said weakly, but he was insistent, his mouth wickedly soft, and her breath hitched as she felt the brush of his tongue. Her hands shot to his muscle-banked shoulders. “Mr. Rohan, you mustn’t—” “This is how to kiss, Amelia.” He cradled her head in his palms, deftly tilting it to the side. “Noses go here.” Another disorienting brush of his mouth, a wash of sensual heat. “You taste like sugar and tea.” “I already know how to kiss!” “Do you?” His thumb passed over her kiss-heated lips, urging them to part. “Then show me,” he whispered. “Let me in, Amelia.” Never in her life had she thought a man would say something so outrageous to her. And if the words were improper, the gleam in his eyes was positively immolating. “I … I’m a spinster.” She offered the word as if it were a talisman. Everyone knew that rakish gentlemen were supposed to leave spinsters alone. But it appeared no one had told Cam Rohan. A covert smile deepened the corners of his mouth. “That’s not going to keep you safe from me.” She tried to turn away from him, but his hands guided her face back to his. “I can’t seem to leave you alone. In fact, I’m reconsidering my entire policy on spinsters.

I obey. He tosses my jeans aside and settles between my legs and grabs hold of my wrists again. With his other hand, he lubes up his dick, then guides it to the place that aches for him. “Fucking fuck me,” I beg. Humor dances in his eyes. “I’m not going to fuck you.” Now I’m groaning again. Goddamn it. If he plans on torturing me again, I really will lose my mind— “I’m going to make love to you,” he finishes. My breath hitches. Smiling, Wes drops his mouth to mine. Our lips lock at the same moment he slowly slides inside me. The burn of pleasure makes me gasp but he swallows the sound with a soft, sweet kiss that matches the soft, sweet strokes of his cock. He fills me. Completes me. My dick is an iron spike against my belly, and I struggle against the tight band of his fingers around my wrists.

Do it again," she whispered, tilting her head, offering her mouth to him. Staring down at her swollen bottom lip, he gave it a little lick. A small, soft moan sounded from the back of her throat. "Ask nicely," he whispered. "Please." She gave a lock of hair at his neck an impatient tug. He came undone. Delving his tongue inside her sweet mouth, he walked her backward until her back met one of the pillars. With one hand cradling the back of her head for protection, his other hand held her hip immobilized, under his control. Rhythmically, he sank his tongue into her honeyed depths, mimicking the motion of making love. She whimpered, the sound a desperate plea. Her fingers threaded through the damp hair at the base of his neck; her other hand clutched at his forearm. He squeezed her hip, his long fingers digging into her soft bottom as he rocked her into his arousal. For several moments, she ground her hips against him as he plundered her mouth. The kiss was no longer enough. He wanted to take her. Right here, right now. His fingertips trailed down the back of her neck to caress her shoulder, her arm, her breast. His breath hitched when she pushed herself more firmly into his hand. She wanted his touch. He complied of course: he would never deny her. Gently he kneaded her through the fabric of her dress, purposely passing his thumb over the hardened tip. She made a small sound of pleasure that nearly pushed him over the edge. The manor, the rain, the mud disappeared. Reason and practicality were momentarily suspended. Nothing mattered in those moments. Nothing but the ever-escalating power of their passion.

The hours I spent in this anachronistic, bibliophile, Anglophile retreat were in surreal contrast to the shrieking horror show that was being enacted in the rest of the city. I never felt this more acutely than when, having maneuvered the old boy down the spiral staircase for a rare out-of-doors lunch the next day—terrified of letting him slip and tumble—I got him back upstairs again. He invited me back for even more readings the following morning but I had to decline. I pleaded truthfully that I was booked on a plane for Chile. 'I am so sorry,' said this courteous old genius. 'But may I then offer you a gift in return for your company?' I naturally protested with all the energy of an English middle-class upbringing: couldn't hear of such a thing; pleasure and privilege all mine; no question of accepting any present. He stilled my burblings with an upraised finger. 'You will remember,' he said, 'the lines I will now speak. You will always remember them.' And he then recited the following: What man has bent o'er his son's sleep, to brood How that face shall watch his when cold it lies? Or thought, as his own mother kissed his eyes, Of what her kiss was when his father wooed? The title (Sonnet XXIX of Dante Gabriel Rossetti)—'Inclusiveness'—may sound a trifle sickly but the enfolded thought recurred to me more than once after I became a father and Borges was quite right: I have never had to remind myself of the words. I was mumbling my thanks when he said, again with utter composure: 'While you are in Chile do you plan a call on General Pinochet?' I replied with what I hoped was equivalent aplomb that I had no such intention. 'A pity,' came the response. 'He is a true gentleman. He was recently kind enough to award me a literary prize.' It wasn't the ideal note on which to bid Borges farewell, but it was an excellent illustration of something else I was becoming used to noticing—that in contrast or corollary to what Colin MacCabe had said to me in Lisbon, sometimes it was also the right people who took the wrong line.

Answering Emily This traverse may the poorest take Without oppress of toll; How Frugal is the chariot That bears a human soul! ~Emily Dickinson Is it really so hard to love this man Which to your siren's calls been lured? Cannot his kiss traverse the oceans depths Piggy-backed upon his word? Neither frigate, freighter nor chariot, Hitched to Hermes’s heels, Can convey the breadth of purest love That this heart truly feels.

The server quickly retreated. When he was out of earshot, Rune snapped, “He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.” I shook my head and laughed. “You’re crazy.” Rune’s forehead lined with frustration. This time it was his turn to shake his head. “You have no idea.” “About what?” I asked, moving my free hand to trace a couple of new scars on Rune’s knuckles. I wondered where they were from. I heard his breathing hitch. “About how beautiful you are,” he replied.

Connor dipped his head and kissed from her neck to her collarbone, and down her arm as he slipped the sark off her shoulder revealing the satiny skin beneath. When he got to her fingers, he nipped her ring finger and Mackenzie gasped as he drew it into his mouth and sucked. He raised his eyes back to hers and trapped her gaze in his own. Connor slid her sark down her body and Mackenzie was helpless to do anything but stare into the dark blue pools of molten desire his eyes had become. It was a heady feeling to know that she was the reason his eyes were so dark; she had never before felt so powerful. He wanted her and this time she knew what to do. Mackenzie unwrapped his plaid from the chieftain brooch and pushed it off his shoulder. Connor held perfectly still and let it fall to the floor with Mackenzie’s pile of clothes. Next Mackenzie dragged his shirt over his head; it too joined the growing pile of clothing. Mackenzie couldn’t help but marvel at his hard body with all its scars hinting at the power and danger this man carried. She let her fingers trail down from his chest to the patch of hair on his stomach, and lower still. She could feel his muscles clench and his breath stop as she wrapped her fingers around his erection. She quickly found his rhythm and knelt down to press her lips to his lower abs. Trailing her mouth down to where her hand was, she gently licked the tip. She felt a thrill of satisfaction as his hands gripped her shoulders and as her mouth took him in, his fingers tightened. She used both her hand and her mouth to pleasure Connor. He molded a hand to the nape of her neck, holding her in place. She was becoming bolder with her free hand, exploring what made his muscles quiver and his breath hitch, when Connor pulled her roughly up and to him, crushing her lips with his. He pressed her back against the cold wall and lifted one of her long legs, hitching it around his hip. She was tall enough that he didn’t have to lift her. He slipped inside her and Mackenzie reveled in the groan wrenched from him. This was how she liked Connor; out of control. He pushed into her again and again until they were both panting, and Mackenzie was moaning with every breath. She couldn’t wait any longer. “Oh God Connor, I’m so close.” “Just let go, love.” With her back pressed against the cold wall and the heat from Connor’s body warming her, Mackenzie shuddered with the force of her orgasm and she melted into Connor’s arms as he spent himself in her.

Cupping her face, I reclaim her lips and gently guide her body next to mine on the bed. Rachel’s tank rides up and my fingers explore the satin skin of her belly. There are so many places I long to go, so many places I crave to take her. “I want to go further,” she whispers. When I skim the waistband of her pants, her breathing hitches. Further. Damn, my entire body responds. I don’t miss the way her hand fidgets with the hem of her shirt. Scared I’ll spook her, I don’t push her too far, but I’m all for reading body language. I place my hand over hers and her smile appears. “You sure?” I ask. I kiss each and every centimeter of her exposed skin as I move up her tank. I linger over the material of her bra and Rachel fists the sheet with both hands. She’s so damn hot I’m about to forget slow and go for fast. But I ignore those urges and guide the material up and over her head. I don’t know what the hell I did to have such a beautiful creature in my bed, but she’s here and I’m going to spend tonight worshipping this gift in front of me.

He reaches over and turns off the light. He rolls me into him, and the sparse dusting of hair on his chest tickles my cheek. “I think I might love you, Logan,” I say to the darkness. His head lifts. I can see it in the sliver of light that’s falling from the open curtain. “Did you say something?” he asks. I shake my head, letting my nose brush his chest so he can feel my answer. “You sure?” he asks. I nod, my nose moving up and down. He kisses the top of my head and hitches my leg up over his hip. I wrap an arm around him and snuggle in deeply. “Go to sleep,” he says softly.

Not forever,” he said onto my mouth. And though I knew it was a lie, I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. He pulled me onto his lap, holding me tightly against him as his lips parted mine. I became aware of every pore in my body when his tongue entered my mouth. Though the horror of Rhysand’s magic still tore at me, I pushed Tamlin onto the bed, straddling him, pinning him as if it would somehow keep me from leaving, as if it would make time stop entirely. His hands rested on my hips, and their heat singed me through the thin silk of my nightgown. My hair fell around our faces like a curtain. I couldn’t kiss him fast enough, hard enough to express the rushing need within me. He growled softly and deftly flipped us over, spreading me beneath him as he wrenched his lips from my mouth and made a trail of kisses down my neck. My entire world constricted to the touch of his lips on my skin. Everything beyond them, beyond him, was a void of darkness and moonlight. My back arched as he reached the spot he’d once bitten, and I dragged my hands through his hair, savoring the silken smoothness. He traced the arc of my hipbones, lingering at the edge of my undergarments. My nightgown had become hitched around my waist, but I didn’t care. I hooked my bare legs around his, running my feet down the hard muscles of his calves. He breathed my name onto my chest, one of his hands exploring the plane of my torso, rising up to the slope of my breast. I trembled, anticipating the feel of his hand there, and his mouth found mine again as his fingers stopped just below. His kissing was slower this time—gentler. The fingertips of his other hand slipped beneath the waist of my undergarment, and I sucked in a breath. He hesitated at the sound, pulling back slightly. But I bit his lip in a silent command that had him growling into my mouth. With one long claw, he shredded through silk and lace, and my undergarment fell away in pieces. The claw retracted, and his kiss deepened as his fingers slid between my legs, coaxing and teasing. I ground against his hand, yielding completely to the writhing wildness that had roared alive inside me, and breathed his name onto his skin. He paused again—his fingers retracting—but I grabbed him, pulling him farther on top of me. I wanted him now—I wanted the barriers of our clothing to vanish, I wanted to taste his sweat, wanted to become full of him.

Would we get on well together, do you think?” she asked dubiously, daring to play with the knot of his necktie, loosening the gray watered-silk fabric with her fingertips. “We’re opposites in nearly every regard.” Inclining his head, Marcus nuzzled the tender inside of her wrist, his lips brushing the blue-tinted veins that lay like fine lacework beneath the skin. “I am coming to believe that taking a wife who is exactly like myself would be the worst conceivable decision I could make.” “Perhaps you’re right,” Lillian mused, letting her fingertips curl into the gleaming close-cut hair at the side of his head. “You need a wife who won’t let you have your way all the time. One who…” She paused with a little shiver as his tongue touched a delicate spot near her inner elbow. “Who,” she continued, struggling to gather her thoughts, “would be willing to take you down a notch when you become too pompous…” “I am never pompous,” Marcus said, drawing the edge of her gown away from the vulnerable curve of her throat. Her breath hitched as he began to kiss the wing of her collarbone. “What would you call it when you carry on as if you always know best, and anyone who disagrees with you is an idiot?” “Most of the time, the people who disagree with me do happen to be idiots. I can’t help that.

You're not a possession," he said raggedly. "You can't be passed from one man to another like a painting or an antique vase." Her voice was faint. "That's not how it is." "Has he told you he wants you?" "Not the way you mean. He... he's a gentleman..." "I want you with my entire body." West dragged his mouth over hers, shaping her lips before settling in for a rough and ardent kiss. He hitched her up against him until her toes barely touched the floor. "You're all I think about. You're all I see. You're the center of a star, and the force of gravity keeps pulling me closer, and I don't give a damn that I'm about to be incinerated." He rested his forehead against hers, panting. "That's what he should tell you.

Blake took off his jacket and blanketed her undergarments on the ground. He unbuttoned his shirt with the carelessness of a man standing in front of his dresser. His hands never hitched. Livia wanted to cheer as he revealed his chest to the sun. But Blake had other plans. He put his chest against hers, and his sun-drenched hands ran from her shoulders to her lower back, pulling her to him with a hard jerk. He was a gentleman, but not necessarily a gentle lover. Their hearts beat as if they were trying to touch from the inside out. Blake ghost-kissed Livia, not quite letting their lips touch. She felt his hot mint breath on her cheek. Blake reached for his pants, and Livia longed to release the button for him, but he needed to do this. He removed his pants and boxer briefs in one swift motion. He kicked off his socks and shoes. All that remained was the mask. Blake and Livia stood apart for a moment before he gathered her again in his arms. With no more material between their bodies, he touched every part of her. He spun her so her back pressed against his chest and he could warm her breasts with his hands. “I always wanted to know if your lips were the same color as your nipples. But they’re not. I think the sun has faded your lips just a bit.” Blake’s liquid silk voice tickled her neck. Livia could feel the scratch of the ski mask. She remembered that the first time she’d heard his voice it was just like this, from behind her. She begged her hands not to remove his mask. They were having a hard time listening. She squirmed until she and Blake were chest to chest again. She kissed his shoulder instead of his mouth. Blake was glorious naked. Powerful.

He doesn't look up as I walk around the desk to him. I place the tip of the blade against the bottom of his chin, as I did the day before in the hall, and I tilt his face toward mine. He shifts his gaze with obvious reluctance. The horror and shame on his face look entirely too real. Suddenly, I am not so sure what to believe. I lean toward him, close enough for a kiss. His eyes widen. The look in his face is some commingling of panic and desire. It is a heady feeling, having power over someone. Over Cardan, who I never thought had any feelings at all. 'You really do want me,' I say, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath as it hitches. 'And you hate it.' I change the angle of the knife, turning it so it's against his neck. He doesn't look nearly as alarmed by that as I might expect. Not nearly as alarmed as when I bring my mouth to his.

His eyes trailed down, and he took her hand in his own. “The curse was weaker because it rebounded. Although it wasn’t strong enough to kill, it would have hurt Granger like hell if it hit her. He stepped in front of her instantly, without a moment’s hesitation. I was like it was instinctual. He protected her like-“ He cut himself off. He had more to say, Astoria could tell by the way he chewed on the inside of his cheek, physically restraining his mouth from moving. “Like what?” She urged. “Please, please, tell me.” Blaise looked up again, and brought his wife’s hand up to his lips to a place a kiss on her knuckles. “Like I would protect you.” Astoria’s breath hitched. “And then when did he do to the Order member? The one who almost hurt Hermione?” “He cast a hex, more furious than I’ve ever seen him. And slit Sean’s throat open so severely he decapitated the poor swine.

Beneath her skirts, she guided his erection to her entrance; drawing his fingers from her sheath, so hot and wet and ready for him, he caught her hand, twined her fingers with his, and drew them away. And sank slowly, carefully, into her scalding heat. Her breath hitched. She tensed, then through the kiss caught her breath and fought to relax, to reverse the instinctive tightening. Her fingers clutched his. He pressed in, steady, sure, not too fast yet not too slow that she had time to think too much. Then he reached the barrier that was her maidenhood; with one powerful thrust he breached it, with the movement forging deep into her body. She cried out, the sound muffled between their lips, and tensed. He held still, giving her time to adjust. Giving himself time to still his whirling senses. To assimilate the feel of scalding velvet gripping him so tightly. To grit his teeth and hold against the powerful, all but overwhelming urge to ride her, hard and fast. As some part of him had wanted to do for a very long time.

Wait!" Brittany calls out as I'm walking away. I turn around and she's right in front of me. "What?" She smiles seductively as if she's wanting something more than a truce. Way more. Shit, is she gonna kiss me? I'm taken off guard here, which usually doesn't happen. She bites her bottom lip, as if she's contemplating her next move. I'm totally game to making out with her. As my brain goes through every scenario, she steps closer to me. And snatches my keys out of my hand. "What do you think you're doin'?" I ask her. "Getting you back for kidnapping me." She steps back and with all her might whips my keys into the woods. "You did not just do that." She backs up, facing me the entire time, as she moves toward her car. "No hard feelings. Payback's a bitch, ain't it, Alex?" she says, trying to keep a straight face. I watch in shock as my chem partner gets into her Beemer. The car drives out of the lot without a jolt, jerk, or hitch. Flawless start. I'm pissed off because I'm going to have to either crawl around in the dark woods trying to find my keys or call Enrique to pick me up. I'm also amused. Brittany Ellis bested me at my own game. "Yeah," I say to her even though she's probably a mile away and can't hear me. "Payback is a bitch.

I’ll fill a tray for Mr. Thornton,” she offered, eager for any excuse to check up on the man and judge the severity of his injuries for herself, “and take it to the workshop.” “That won’t be necessary, Miss Greyson, but thank you.” Nicole spun toward the doorway. “Dar—Mr. Thornton!” She raked her gaze over his tall form. He moved a bit gingerly as he entered the kitchen, but that was to be expected after the abuse his body had taken that afternoon. No bandages in evidence, at least none that she could see. She supposed it was possible he had a wound concealed beneath his dark trousers, but she gauged his movements as he ambled to the table and didn’t detect a limp or any hitch in his stride. “Do I pass inspection?” The amusement in his voice brought a rush of heat to her cheeks. “That depends,” she brazened, lifting her chin. “Are there any hidden injuries I should be concerned about?” He made his way around the table, running his fingers along the back of each chair. “Such a personal question, Miss Greyson.” A teasing gleam lit his eyes as he steadily approached. Nicole dropped the bread knife and turned to face him fully, reaching behind herself to grip the cabinet top for support. “But you can put your mind at ease.” He didn’t stop when he rounded the table. He kept coming. Nicole’s pulse fluttered, and her grip on the cabinet doubled. “Except for a pile of bruises and some overheated skin, I’m fine.” He ceased his advance. Finally. She had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze, though, so close had he come. “I’m glad to hear it. Sir.” She added the last to try to force some distance between them. With him standing so close, all she could think about was that unexpected kiss they’d shared. Not the healthiest train of thought for a young woman who planned to leave as soon as monetarily possible. He was her employer. That was all.

What else do you want to know?’ he asked. Possessed by morbid curiosity, her eyes darted to the scar that cut just over his ear. She’d found it shortly after they met, while he lay unconscious in the grass. He didn’t need to ask what had caught her attention. ‘I got that in a fight against imperial soldiers. Ask me why.’ She shook her head, unable to bring herself to do it. The cocoon of warmth that had enveloped the entire afternoon unwound itself in an instant. ‘Are you having second thoughts about being here with me?’ He planted a hand into the grass, edging closer. ‘No. I trust you.’ He was giving her all the time in the world to shove him away, to rise, to flee. Her heartbeat quickened as she watched him. Moving ever so slowly, he braced an arm on either side of her, his fingers sinking into the moss. ‘I asked you to come with me.’ Despite her words, she dug her heels into the ground and inched backwards. ‘I feel safe with you.’ ‘I can see that.’ He affected a lazy smile as she retreated until her back pressed against the knotted roots that crawled along the ground. His boldness was so unexpected, so exciting. She held her breath and waited. Her pulse jumped when he reached for her. She’d been imagining this moment ever since their first duel and wondering whether it would take another swordfight for him to come near her again. His fingers curled gently against the back of her neck, giving her one last chance to escape. Then he lowered his mouth and kissed her. It was as natural as breathing to wrap his arms around her and lower her to the ground. He settled his weight against her hips. The perfume of her skin mixed with the damp scent of the moss beneath them. At some point, her sense of propriety would win over. Until then he let his body flood with raw desire. It felt good to kiss her the way he wanted to. It felt damn good. He slipped his tongue past her lips to where she was warm and smooth and inviting. Her hands clutched at his shirt as she returned his kiss. A muted sound escaped from her throat. He swallowed her cry, using his hands to circle her wrists: rough enough to make her breath catch, gentle enough to have her opening her knees, cradling his hips with her long legs. He stroked himself against her, already hard beyond belief. He groaned when she responded, instinctively pressing closer. ‘I need to see you,’ he said. The sash around her waist fell aside in two urgent tugs while his other hand stole beneath her tunic. She gasped when his fingers brushed the swath of cloth at her breasts. The faint, helpless sound nearly lifted him out of the haze of desire. He didn’t want to think too hard about this. Not yet. He felt for the edge of the binding. ‘In back.’ She spoke in barely a whisper, a sigh on his soul. She peered up at him, her face in shadow as he parted her tunic. She watched him in much the same way she had when they had first met: curious, fearless, her eyes a swirl of green and gold. He pulled at the tight cloth until Ailey’s warm, feminine flesh swelled into his hands. He soothed his palms over the cruel welts left by the bindings. She bit down against her lip as blood rushed back into the tortured flesh. With great care, he stroked her nipples, teasing them until they grew tight beneath his roughened fingertips. God’s breath. Perfect. He wanted his mouth on her and still it wouldn’t be enough. Her heart beat out a chaotic rhythm. His own echoed the same restless pulse. ‘I knew it would be like this.’ His words came out hoarse with passion. At that moment he’d have given his soul to have her. But somewhere in his thick skull, he knew he had a beautiful, vulnerable girl who trusted him pressed against the bare earth. He sensed the hitch in her breathing and how her fingers dug nervously into his shoulders, even as her hips arched into him. He ran his thumb gently over the reddened mark that ran just below her collarbone and felt her shiver beneath him.

Do you think he’ll tell anyone?” “No,” he said immediately, reassuring her. “Westcliff isn’t given to gossip. He won’t say a word to anyone, except…” “Except?” “Lady Westcliff. He’ll probably tell her.” Amelia considered that, thinking perhaps it wasn’t so terrible. Lady Westcliff didn’t seem like the kind of person who would condemn her for this. The countess seemed quite tolerant of scandalous behavior. “Of course,” Rohan continued, “if Lady Westcliff knows, there’s a high probability she’ll tell Lady St. Vincent, who’s due to arrive with Lord St. Vincent by the end of the week. And since Lady St. Vincent tells her husband everything, he’ll know about it, too. Other than that, no one will find out. Unless…” Her head jerked upward like a string puppet’s. “Unless what?” “Unless Lord St. Vincent mentions it to Mr. Hunt, who would undoubtedly tell Mrs. Hunt, and then … everyone would find out.” “Oh, no. I can’t bear it.” He gave her an alert glance. “Why? Because you were caught kissing a Gypsy?” “No, because I’m not the kind of woman who is caught kissing anyone. I don’t have rendezvous! When everyone finds out, I’ll have no dignity left. No reputation. No—What are you smiling at?” “You. I wouldn’t have expected such melodrama.” That annoyed Amelia, who was not the kind of woman who indulged in theatrics. She wedged her arms more firmly between them. “My reaction is perfectly reasonable considering—” “You’re not bad at it.” She blinked in confusion. “Melodrama?” “No, kissing. With a little practice, you’d be exceptional. But you need to relax.” “I don’t want to relax. I don’t want to … oh, dear Lord.” He had bent his head to her throat, searching for the visible thrum of her pulse. A light, hot shock went through her. “Don’t do that,” she said weakly, but he was insistent, his mouth wickedly soft, and her breath hitched as she felt the brush of his tongue. Her hands shot to his muscle-banked shoulders. “Mr. Rohan, you mustn’t—” “This is how to kiss, Amelia.” He cradled her head in his palms, deftly tilting it to the side. “Noses go here.” Another disorienting brush of his mouth, a wash of sensual heat. “You taste like sugar and tea.” “I already know how to kiss!” “Do you?” His thumb passed over her kiss-heated lips, urging them to part. “Then show me,” he whispered. “Let me in, Amelia.

He held her down in the cushioning billows of the bed, kissed her, fondled and provocatively caressed until she arched, with her body begged; breaking from the kiss, he trailed hot, wet, openmouthed kisses down the taut line of her throat, over the creamy upper swell of her breast, and gave her the first course of what she'd asked for. He feasted on her breasts without quarter, licked, suckled, and laved as she writhed and gasped beneath him, as her hands gripped and tightened on his skull as he drew every last gasp and moan he could from her, then moved on. Over her midriff, down over her waist, pausing to pay homage to the sensitive indentation of her navel, then he shifted still lower. Trapping one of her long legs beneath him, lifting and draping the other over his shoulder, he held it there, held her steady as he pressed an ardent kiss to the curls shielding her mons. He heard her breath hitch, felt her body tremble, then tense and coil. Glancing at her face, he caught a glimpse of intense cornflower blue burning beneath her heavy lids, saw her lips slick and swollen from his kisses, parted in shocked disbelief. Deliberately he slid lower, bent and set his lips to the slick, swollen flesh between her thighs. She jerked, moaned. He licked and she screamed. She reached for him, but could only touch his head. Her fingers twined in his hair, tightened; she tensed to tug, but he licked again, then slowly, expertly probed, and she didn't move. Panting, eyes shut, she waited. Inwardly smug, he settled to worship her in that way, too, to taste her, to fill his senses with her, and hers with him. She let him have his way, let him taste her as he wished, let him try her with his tongue and drive her mindless. He asked, and she surrendered; he took, and she gave. In return, he pleasured her with unwavering devotion until she sobbed and cried out his name. Rising, he rolled her firmly onto her back, trailed kisses like fire up her belly and breasts as he loomed over her, spreading her thighs wide, settling between. He held himself over her, arms braced as he kissed her, tasted her desperation on her lips. Then with one, single powerful thrust he joined them. She closed about him like a glove, and he gasped; like the goddess he'd named her she welcomed her servant into her temple and embraced him. He moved, and she moved with him, fluidly meeting him as they gave themselves up to the now familiar dance. His thoughts fractured, ripped from him as a whirlpool of sensation rose up, drenched, then drowned him.

Their eyes met. For a split second she caught a glimpse of heat in his eyes. Then Jake banked the flame and broke out of her embrace. Marnie felt a hot blush rise from her toes to her nose. It took a moment for her eyes to focus and her brain to function. Bewildered, she looked up to find him watching her. His heavy-lidded eyes held a strange desperation as he reached back and unhooked the vice of her ankles from around his wiast. Her legs dropped. Her heels thumped against the cabinet. Beneath his hawklike gaze she felt stripped bare and vulnerable. He studied her face, seeming to see more than her features. He seemed to delve into her mind, to touch things deep and frightening—parts of herself Marnie was still exploring. The muscles in his jaw knotted and unknotted. After a moment he stepped back and casually, but with difficulty, adjusted his jeans Heat flooded her cheeks. Legs splayed, nipples peaked to his clinical gaze, she’d never experienced such acute embarrassment in her life. Her breath hitched as she jumped off the counter, tugging her top down and her pants up. At a loss for hers, she half laughed. “I have absolutely no idea what to say.” Which was a reasonable start, she guessed. It was rare for her to be speechless. But then, this was a day of firsts. “I told you you weren’t my type.” The brass button on his jeans closed like the clasp of a miser’s purse. Other than a faint flush on the ridge of his cheekbones and what looked like a painful erection, he seemed totally unaffected by what had just happened. She stared at him. “Not your t—What do you call what just happened?” Marnie was confused. It was out of character for her to be sexually aggressive. But now that she’d done it, she wasn’t sorry. “What part of ‘I don’t want you’ didn’t you understand?” He’d wanted her. He might lie about it, but his body had been honest. He was as hard as petrified wood. “Then what”—she pointed—“is that?” He ignored the bulge in his jeans. “Just because I have it doesn’t mean I intend to use it.” Marnie stepped forward and touched his arm. He jerked away from her as if she’d used a cattle prod. “Was it something I said?” she asked quietly, dropping her hand to her side. “Look, I have a tendency to sort of speak without running the words through my brain first. But I know I didn’t give out mixed signals just now. I wanted to make love with you. It was very good. No, darn it, it was excellent. So if you have some sort of medical condition, let’s talk about i—” He moved backward, almost tripping over Duchess sprawled on the floor. The dog rose to hover anxiously between them. Jake’s eyes turned as he said, “I do not have a medical condition.” Marnie backed up—mentally as well as physically. Her hip bumped the counter. “Good.” He scowled and swore under his breath. “That is good, isn’t it?” she asked tentatively.

Of course, no china--however intricate and inviting--was as seductive as my fiancé, my future husband, who continued to eat me alive with one glance from his icy-blue eyes. Who greeted me not at the door of his house when I arrived almost every night of the week, but at my car. Who welcomed me not with a pat on the arm or even a hug but with an all-enveloping, all-encompassing embrace. Whose good-night kisses began the moment I arrived, not hours later when it was time to go home. We were already playing house, what with my almost daily trips to the ranch and our five o’clock suppers and our lazy movie nights on his thirty-year-old leather couch, the same one his parents had bought when they were a newly married couple. We’d already watched enough movies together to last a lifetime. Giant with James Dean, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, Reservoir Dogs, Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, The Graduate, All Quiet on the Western Front, and, more than a handful of times, Gone With the Wind. I was continually surprised by the assortment of movies Marlboro Man loved to watch--his taste was surprisingly eclectic--and I loved discovering more and more about him through the VHS collection in his living room. He actually owned The Philadelphia Story. With Marlboro Man, surprises lurked around every corner. We were already a married couple--well, except for the whole “sleepover thing” and the fact that we hadn’t actually gotten hitched yet. We stayed in, like any married couple over the age of sixty, and continued to get to know everything about each other completely outside the realm of parties, dates, and gatherings. All of that was way too far away, anyway--a minimum hour-and-a-half drive to the nearest big city--and besides that, Marlboro Man was a fish out of water in a busy, crowded bar. As for me, I’d been there, done that--a thousand and one times. Going out and panting the town red was unnecessary and completely out of context for the kind of life we’d be building together. This was what we brought each other, I realized. He showed me a slower pace, and permission to be comfortable in the absence of exciting plans on the horizon. I gave him, I realized, something different. Different from the girls he’d dated before--girls who actually knew a thing or two about country life. Different from his mom, who’d also grown up on a ranch. Different from all of his female cousins, who knew how to saddle and ride and who were born with their boots on. As the youngest son in a family of three boys, maybe he looked forward to experiencing life with someone who’d see the country with fresh eyes. Someone who’d appreciate how miraculously countercultural, how strange and set apart it all really is. Someone who couldn’t ride to save her life. Who didn’t know north from south, or east from west. If that defined his criteria for a life partner, I was definitely the woman for the job.

And the winner is,” he sings. He waits, opening the folded piece of paper slowly, drawing out the suspense. I can barely hear him over my own heartbeat, which is thumping like crazy. Is it too late to back out? Shit. I don’t want to do this. “The winner is the person who guessed twelve hundred and forty-eight!” The crowd is silent, and all the participants look to one another. But then I hear a thump, thump, thump, thump as someone comes up the stairs onto the platform. I see the baseball cap before I see the rest of him, and I hope to God that’s Sean’s cap. But Sean didn’t even buy a ticket. Not a single one. Yet it’s his brown gaze that meets mine. It’s his baseball cap, and they are his tattoos. They’re his broad shoulders and his long strides that eat up the distance between us. He turns his hat backward and looks down at me. He stops with less than an inch to spare between us. “Congratulations,” I squeak out. “You didn’t even buy a ticket. How did you…?” “I bought one hundred and forty-two tickets, dummy,” he says. My heart trips a beat. “You did?” All he had to buy was one. I put the winning number on the piece of paper I gave him. He nods, and he takes my face in his hands. His thumbs draw little circles on my cheeks as his fingers thread into the hair at my temples. “You didn’t look at the paper I gave you….” My heart is pounding like mad. “What paper?” he asks. His smile is soft and inviting, and I want to fall into him. “The one you put in your pocket.” His brow furrows. “Never mind,” I say, breathless. He spent 142 dollars for a kiss he already owned in more ways than one. If I loved this man any more, it would be dangerous. He looks down into my eyes, not moving. He’s going to kiss me, right? “What’s the plan here?” “I’m going to kiss my girl,” he says, smiling at me. My breath hitches. “But you have to say yes, first.” He hasn’t let me go. He’s holding me tightly, forcing me to meet his eyes. “This isn’t going to be a one-time thing.” I can’t even think, and he wants me to commit? “It’s not,” I breathe. “You promise?” His gaze searches mine like he’s going to find the secrets to the universe there. “I swear on your life,” I say. He chuckles. “My life?” I nod. His eyebrows draw together. “Aren’t you supposed to swear on your own life?” “My life means nothing if you’re not in it.” His hands start to tremble against my face, and he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Logan’s brothers start to chant, “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss…,” and the crowd joins in. “You better kiss me,” I say, “or they’re going to get restless.” A tear rolls down my cheek, and he brushes it back with his thumb, his gaze soft and warm. His eyes open, and he leans closer to me. I step onto my tiptoes to get to him because I can’t wait one more second. He stops a breath away from me, just like he did in the room. He waits. “You have to close the distance,” he says to me. He’s making me choose. I fall into him and press my lips to his. He freezes. But then he starts to kiss me. And all the fireworks at the state fair couldn’t compare to the ones that go off in my head.

He took our entwined hands and set them on his chest…which forced me to have to scoot closer to him, eating up space between us. I felt his heart beat under the back of my hand. I could hardly breathe. I didn’t want to move and break the contact. “Are you comfortable?” he murmured. I bunched the blanket at my head to make a better pillow and drew in a breath for my thankful lungs. “Yes.” His forearm was trapping my forearm against his side at the angle he held our hands. “And this…” he rubbed his thumb along mine. Again…electricity ran through my veins. “Is okay?” My heart hitched in my chest. “Yes.” He repeated the action and he could have asked me anything and I probably would have said yes. He sighed out a breath. “I’m glad,” he whispered. “I don’t think I could let go if you asked me.” His fingers contracted. His face turned toward me, but I did not look up into the hood. I studied our hands on his chest. “Nothing has felt this good…this right, in a long time, Nerissa.” He said it so softly I thought I had imagined it. I smiled, afraid to say anything. Knowing me…I would burst into tears. His other hand reached to touch my cheek and I felt him lean in…his breath was on my face. I closed my eyes. “I think he’s going to kiss her,” Amelia crowed. “Yuck!” His nearness was taken away…but my hand remained in his. “What are you two little monkeys cackling about?” Liam chuckled. Amelia smiled innocently. “Uncle Ian says…” “We don’t want to hear what Uncle Ian has to say,” Liam growled playfully. “Now lie down here and watch for those shooting stars you were hoping for. Daddy needs one to wish on tonight.” Brianne giggled. “You going to wish for a kiss, Daddy?

Echo’s breathing hitches when I slide my thumb along a smaller scar. She likes that spot. I’ve memorized it. A centimeter below the crook of her elbow. Her skin is sensitive there, and when I kiss it, Echo normally falls apart and nearly shatters. I gently press my lips behind her ear, and Echo nudges closer to me. “Why, Echo?” “Because.” I nip at her earlobe, and she shivers. “Because why?” Her shoulder moves under my body. A half shrug maybe. “It makes me feel better.” Fuck that. “Why?” A kiss on her neck. A long one. A lingering one. God damn, Echo tastes so good. Her skin is soft and tempting. But I want answers. “Because sometimes I want to blend in.” I raise my head and stare straight into her eyes, spotting the plain honesty. What she doesn’t understand is that she could never blend in. Blazing red hair. Bright emerald eyes. The most beautiful girl in the world. She’d turn heads regardless of a sweater.

He tips my face up with a gentle finger under my chin. “Can I kiss you?” I shake my head, but his lips are so close to mine that I can feel his breath. “Why not?” he asks. I push to the edge of the couch, because I really need to get away from him. If not, I’m going to let him kiss me. And I’m not going to want to stop. But when I move to get up, he wraps an arm around my waist and hauls me back onto his lap. I freeze, because my weight is on his good leg. “S-stop. I’m g-going to h-hurt you.” I don’t have anywhere to tap. He says softly but firmly, “I’ll let you know if it hurts.” With a gentle push of his hand in the center of my back, he brings me down to lie on his front, and my breasts squash against his hard chest muscles. God, I don’t think there’s anything soft about him. He palms my hip and hitches me closer and higher, bringing my lips to his. “A-all of my w-weight is on y-you,” I stammer. I close my eyes and take a breath. “I know, and it’s kind of awesome.” He smiles. “And so is hearing you talk.” “W-we’ve b-been t-talking all night.” “Not the same,” he whispers. “I’ll take what I can get, but I’d rather have you, exactly like this. Except naked, maybe.” He chuckles. I’m already naked. He just doesn’t realize it. I put my hands against his chest so I can push back, but he takes my fingers, threads them with his, palm to palm, and holds tight. “Kiss me.” I shake my head. “C’mon,” he teases. I want to kiss him. I want to kiss him so bad. “You know you want to.” He grins. I’ve kissed him before. Hell, I’ve passed him a condom before. But we never went any further. “You’ve never kissed me. You know that?” He lays his head back against the couch and looks at me from beneath lowered lashes. “I h-have so,” I sputter. “Nope,” he corrects me. “It was always me kissing you.” I’m certain I’ve kissed him before. “Kiss me,” he says again. He jostles me with a bump of his leg beneath my bottom. “Don’t make me beg.” He laughs, but it’s not funny. I

I don’t know what to do with myself all alone with Matt, so I start to load the dishwasher with today’s dishes. Matt picks up plates and cups from the table and helps me. “Careful, or I’ll get used to having you around,” I warn playfully. He looks directly into my eyes. “Good. That’s what I’m going for.” My breath hitches, and I have to turn away so that I’m not facing him. I lay my hands flat on the counter and take a breath. But then I feel Matt’s length behind me. His palms lie flat on the counter beside mine, his arms bracketing my body. I can feel him from the top of my head to the heels of my feet, he’s that close. “You in love with me yet?” he whispers quietly. A grin steals across my face, and I’m so glad he can’t see it. “Nope,” I say past the lump in my throat. He brushes the hair from the back of my neck and presses his lips there. I’m suddenly glad he’s behind me, because my knees might just give out. His lips are soft and warm, but insistent. He kisses the side of my neck, and I tilt my head because it feels so damn good. “Someday, you’re going to want to marry me,” he murmurs. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.” My voice quavers only a little. I’m quite proud of that. “Mmm hmm,” he murmurs, and his lips gently slide up the side of my neck.

Instead of shaking it, Armand slowly brought her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her knuckles. Gwen’s breath hitched and her eyes widened. Jacque wanted to smash his fist into his cousin’s pearly whites. The bastard was purposely taunting both him and Louis by turning on the charm. Women loved Armand. Young and old, pretty or plain, it didn’t matter. He

And tell me, when have you ever really noticed me, or where I am, or where I sit? You never look at me. You avoid me like I’m the pox!” Her volume reached new levels and she had to force herself not to yell up into his face. She spoke through her teeth to keep her voice low. “You’ve done your best to keep us safe and help me learn what I’ve needed to know about Father—and for that I will be forever grateful, but you can’t honestly pretend that you care!” Thomas captured her shoulders again and pulled her in front of him with a jerk, making her hat fall to the ground. The glowering look in his eyes simmered and Eliza turned her head away. Taking a hand from her shoulder he wrapped his strong, gentle fingers around her chin, compelling her to look at him. The low resonance in his rich voice was both imposing and tender. “I notice everything about you.” Eliza tried to pull away, her heart beating against her lungs. “I don’t believe you. You’re actions say otherwise.” Thomas huffed and glanced away before locking eyes with her again. “I’ve tried to keep away from you, to keep from developing feelings for you, Eliza. I know you have a life in Boston and I’ve only ever brought you trouble . . . but I can’t dictate my heart.” He brushed his calloused fingers against her cheek. Eliza closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his tenderness. It was too wonderful to be real. “I couldn’t bear to see you hurt again, Eliza. That’s what caused my anger. Not the fact that you went to the rally.” His honey voice softened. “If anything had happened to you, I would never have forgiven myself, and not because it’s my duty to care for you, as you think. Because I love you.” Eliza’s breath hitched, and her heart thumped at the sparkle of surprise in his eyes, as if he hadn’t meant to speak the tender words. But from the way his gaze roamed her face, it seemed he didn’t regret saying them. She looked up with parted lips, soaking in the sweet dew of his affections as he stepped closer. As if unwrapping precious china, he unwound the scarf that still circled her hair and let it drop to the ground near the hat. He smoothed his fingers around her ears, cupping her head, and directed her face toward his. All the world disappeared, the surrounding trees and shadows melting together and closing around them like a celestial dream. He stepped closer and her knees turned as weak as the wilted blades of snow-covered grass at her feet. “What are you doing?” she whispered, trembling under his touch. An unmistakable hunger swirled in his gaze, reaching out and expanding the longing of her own. The heat in his low voice stole her breath. “I’m doing what I’ve wanted to do for a very long time.” He leaned toward her, but she put a hand on his chest to stop him, her heart slamming against her ribs. His dark eyebrows crunched down. “What is it?” Eliza swallowed, trying to keep her voice even. “Last time you kissed me, you avoided me as if I were a poison. I don’t want that to happen again.” A quiet, rumbling laugh escaped him. “You are anything but a poison, Eliza.” He cradled her face in his hands, tilting it upward and nuzzled her cold nose with his. She closed her eyes and inhaled in a ragged breath as his warm lips moved across the corners of her eyes, her cheekbones, her ear. Delicious shivers sprayed down her skin and she clung to his chest to keep from falling. His hands brushed down her neck and shoulders—one resting behind her head, the other at her back, as if he wanted to keep her safely next to him forever. Dear

Without moving apart, Zev moaned and whispered into Jonah’s mouth, “Damn, Blondie, you’re a great kisser.” Jonah moved his arms up to Zev’s back, wrapping the young man in his embrace and stroking his smooth, firm skin. “You’re not so bad yourself, Hassick. You been practicing this with someone without me knowing?” Zev snickered. “You jealous?” Jonah didn’t return the smile. He looked into Zev’s eyes and answered without any guile, “Yeah. I’m jealous of anyone who got to touch you.” Instead of looking freaked out, as Jonah had half expected, Zev remained completely calm. He gazed into Jonah’s eyes with such powerful emotion that Jonah’s heart raced and his breath hitched. “Unless you can manage being jealous of yourself, you don’t have to worry. Like I told you yesterday, I haven’t ever thought about anyone else—girls or guys—let alone touched anyone else. It’s just you, Blondie. It’s always been you.” Zev let his words sink in, then he reversed the tables on the discussion. “What about you? Been hiding out behind the bleachers sneaking kisses with cheerleaders?” Jonah snorted more than laughed. “Uh, Zev, I was teasing about the whole not-so-smart thing earlier, but now I’m thinking I may have been on to something. That hardness you feel against your stomach isn’t a banana. That’s me happy to see you, or feel you, in this case. And you’re a guy. With that background in place, we can add two and two together here and even someone with your limited math skills can come up with the correct answer. I’m gay. I’ve got no deep dark cheerleader secrets in my past.” Zev was amazed at how easily Jonah said the words. He admired how his friend so completely accepted this part of himself. No shame, no hesitation. Just a matter-of-fact statement. In that moment, Zev decided he’d take the same approach. He knew it’d shock his parents. Hell, it’d rock his whole community. But he was attracted to a man. He had a male mate. That meant he was gay. Zev Hassick was a gay shifter. The pack would just have to find a way to deal with that truth even though they’d always believed it to be impossible. “And in case you’re wondering,” Jonah continued, his hand still rubbing Zev’s back but now moving lower, skating over his ass, “I don’t have any deep dark football player secrets, either. I’ve had a crush on one guy for as long as I can remember and I kinda put all my eggs in that basket.” Zev took another kiss, slow, soft and sweet this time. “I better be the egg-basket guy in that story, Blondie, or the tickles are coming back in full force.

Let me kiss you." The breath was back across his skin, this time from the left. The whisper-soft caress of air became his undoing. Avery slowly turned him around. The move proved to be all the incentive Kane needed, and he lifted his head. Avery's amber eyes held his. He was lost in a sea of turmoil at the emotion coursing through his veins. He swallowed before lifting his lips. Avery met him halfway. The kiss wasn't a sweet searching brush of the lips. They both immediately opened, creating a swirl of tongue and teeth as they desperately kissed one another. Avery backed him against the bottles, circling an arm around his waist, drawing him tightly against his body and kissed Kane like he had never been kissed before. Avery took complete control, dominating Kane in every way, and he let the man have his way. He lifted his hand to Kane's face. Avery's strong thumb stroked across his jawline then turned him to where he could delve deeper inside his mouth. The move caused nerves to explode again across Kane's skin and through his brain. His breath hitched, and he was forced to pull away, giving in to his need to breathe before passing out won in the end.

I love you, Ellen Markham.” He kissed her cheek. “When are you going to tell me you love me?” “How can you be sure I do?” Val hiked a leg across her thighs. “First, you are sending me away. This is proof positive you love me, for you are trying to protect me from some sort of grave peril only you can perceive.” Ellen’s breathing hitched, and Val knew his guess had been right. Gratified by that success, he marched forward. “Second”—he slipped a hand over her breast—“you make love with me, Ellen. You hold nothing back, ever, and are so passionate I am nigh mindless with the pleasure of our intimacy.” He punctuated this sentiment by dipping his head and suckling gently on her nipple. She groaned and arched up toward him. “I make my point.” Val smiled in the dark and raised his head. “Third, there is the way I make love with you.” “And how is that?” She sounded more breathless than curious. Val shifted his body over hers. “As if I trust you. I know you are human, and you will do what you think best, but you do it with my interests in mind, Ellen. I don’t have to watch myself with you, because you love me, truly. I know it. It isn’t the way my siblings love me, though they are dear. It isn’t how my parents love me, which is more instinct than insight. It isn’t the way my friends love me, though they are both dear and insightful.” “So how is it?” Ellen asked, slipping her legs apart to cradle him intimately. “It’s the way I want and need to be loved,” Val said quietly, resting his weight against the soft, curving length of her. “It’s perfect.” “But I am sending you away,” Ellen reminded him, her fingers at his nape. Val levered up on his forearms and began to nudge lazily at her sex with his erection. “So you’re running out of time to tell me the things that matter, aren’t you?” If she was going to use words to answer, Val forestalled her reply by kissing her within an inch of her soul. Her response was made with her body, and to Val’s mind she told him, as emphatically as any woman ever told her man, she did, indeed, unequivocally love him. And always would. “What

Why the sigh, love?” “This has happened too fast, and I am not at all at peace with it. I like you, Lucas, I like you a very great deal…” Whatever arguments she was trying to resurrect, they died on another sigh as Deene started massaging her neck. “I like you a very great deal too, and we’ll manage, Eve. Trust me on that. I’ll call on you tomorrow before I head into Town, and expect to see you there forthwith. No leaving me to face all the good wishes myself, if you please.” The longer he worked at the tense muscles of her neck, the more she rested against him. “Give me a week, Lucas.” “Do something for me.” She was becoming a warm, boneless press of female against him with results as predictable as they were inappropriate. “What?” “Drive out. Take that little fellow who was in the traces today, hitch up one of your sister Sophie’s great beasts, but don’t hole up here and fret yourself into a decline. Drive out, Eve Windham. Get into the sunshine, call on the neighbors with your news, let Her Grace show you off a bit, but get the ribbons into your hands again soon.” She pulled away a little to peer up at him. “This is an odd request, but I’ll tend to it.” “And my only request until I can squire you about in Town.” She blinked. “My headache feels better.” He’d been able to ease her headache, and she liked him a very great deal. Deene kissed her cheek, waited until she’d disappeared into her room, then strode off to have that drink His Grace had mentioned. Eve had agreed to drive out. A celebration was, indeed, in order. ***

Avelina was dizzy by the time he ended the kiss. The intense smolder in his dark-brown eyes made her breath hitch in her throat. His

And that's when the doorbell rings. Marcus freezes. As do I. "That must be your friend," I somehow manage to say, even though my throat is trying to close. Marcus is clearly torn between remaining immobile and opening the door. The bell rings again. "Want me to get it?" "No," he says. "No." I stand, not knowing what to do while he slowly springs open the door. Not surprisingly, Marcus's old schoolfriend is a petite and extraordinarily pretty brunette. She steps into the apartment and kisses Marcus full on the lips. "Hello, darling," she says. Marcus recoils slightly and casts a worried glance in my direction which his friend follows. "Hi," I say, extending my hand as I try to force my face into a smile. She takes it. Her hand is cool and delicate, as slender as the rest of her. "I'm Lucy," I continue brightly. "Marcus's girlfriend." Now it's her turn to recoil. "This is my friend, Joanne," Marcus says tightly. I look at my lover. "An old schoolfriend. That's what you said, isn't it?" I turn back to Joanne. "Which school did you go to with Marcus? Primary? Grammar? Or maybe it was the harsh school of life?" His old schoolfriend looks at him blankly. "I don't know quite what's going on here, Marcus," she says. "But I don't think that I want to be a part of it." She turns away from him, spinning on her heel toward the door. "Jo," Marcus pleads as he catches her sleeve. "Don't go." And I think that's my cue to leave. "Oh, Marcus," I say sadly. "Do you have so little respect for me?" "I can explain," he says, and I notice that he's still looking at Jo rather than at me. "You're welcome to stay and listen to it," I say to Jo. "I'll be the one to leave." Marcus does nothing to stop me, so I hitch up my gym bag once more and move toward the door. "It's been nice meeting you," I say to Marcus's new love. "You'll enjoy your dinner. It smells wonderful. It even covers the smell of a rat. The chocolates are great, by the way. I hope you both choke on them.

Pressing his forehead against my cheek, wet hair mingled with mine. “Let me make you forget. Let me give you a new memory, esclave.” “His purr hitched my breathing, and happiness sharpened to need. My body wanted him to replace the agony of Brute. Q wouldn’t hurt me. Not like those men. I nodded infinitesimally. Q’s breathing turned harsh, lowering his hand. Agonisingly slowly, he touched my leg, avoiding the lash marks, stroking reverently. Inch by inch, he made his way up my inner thigh, until exploring fingers found my heat.  I jolted as he circled my entrance. More tears erupted, but he kissed them away, adding pressure to his hold, keeping me still. “Écarté pour moi.” Open for me.

Tell me what I’m in for,” he says softly, his eyes serious, really asking. “I’m going to be unreasonably possessive.” I scatter kisses across his stomach, and the muscles clench beneath my lips. “I won’t hesitate to destroy any bitch who tries to take you away from me.” “Okay.” His breath hitches. “What else?” I sit up, settling my legs on either side of his magnificent naked body, the narrow waist widening to the sleek muscles of his chest, the heavier muscles of his shoulders and ink-splattered arms. I admire the contrast of my thighs against his skin so deeply bronzed. “I will hurt anyone who tries to hurt you.” I laugh self- consciously. “If you hadn’t figured it out, I’m kind of protective of the people I care about.

Oh, she missed me.” I grin and invade her with two fingers. Bristol's breath catches in her throat, and she squeezes her top lip between her teeth. “Did you just personify my pussy?” She laughs in between hitched breaths. “I am a writer." I dot kisses under her chin and any reachable skin. "Take it as a sign of respect.” “I’ll take this.” She grabs my bone-hard, stretched-out dick. “As a sign of respect.

Pressing his forehead against my cheek, wet hair mingled with mine. “Let me make you forget. Let me give you a new memory, esclave.” His purr hitched my breathing, and happiness sharpened to need. My body wanted him to replace the agony of Brute. Q wouldn’t hurt me. Not like those men. I nodded infinitesimally. Q’s breathing turned harsh, lowering his hand. Agonizingly slowly, he touched my leg, avoiding the lash marks, stroking reverently. Inch by inch, he made his way up my inner thigh, until exploring fingers found my heat.  I jolted as he circled my entrance. More tears erupted, but he kissed them away, adding pressure to his hold, keeping me still. “Écarté pour moi.” Open for me.

I want you with my entire body.” West dragged his mouth over hers, shaping her lips before settling in for a rough and ardent kiss. He hitched her up against him until her toes barely touched the floor. “You’re all I think about. You’re all I see. You’re the center of a star, and the force of gravity keeps pulling me closer, and I don’t give a damn that I’m about to be incinerated.” He rested his forehead against hers, panting.

Then I will take my kiss from you another way instead.” He shifted to hover his lips over hers, a hair’s breadth between them. For that brief second, it seemed as though all of time stopped. Her heart hitched in her chest. “Let go, Miss Parker.” Then the gap was closed. He kissed her.

I could feel the tension leaving her as she gave in, her kisses rich and consuming as I explored her mouth with mine. I moved my hand that final inch, my thumb dragging its way up the centre of her panties until I found her clit and pressed down, making her gasp in pleasure. I began circling my thumb against her through her panties and she arched her back, her thighs widening further to give me all the access I wanted to destroy her. I kissed harder as I began to unhook her shirt buttons with my free hand, wanting to see those fucking tits I'd been jerking off over in the flesh. Her hands continued to move across my bare skin as I kept working her clit and I gave up trying to take my time with her as she started panting with need. I shifted my hand, pushing her panties aside and growling with desire as I found her pussy soaked and ready for me and I immediately sank a finger deep inside her. Tory moaned, her voice rough and breathy and so fucking sexy that I had to fight the urge to drop my pants and drive my cock into her here and now so that I could hear what it sounded like when I really made her scream. But thanks to fucking Teddy, I knew I didn't have time to fuck her the way I ached to and I didn't want to rush through something I'd been daydreaming about for so long. So I was going to feel her coming for me like this, take control of her pleasure and leave her wanting more so that she was aching for me as much as possible the next time we found ourselves alone like this and I could really show her what I was made of. My other hand found her tit and I squeezed it through her bra, groaning at the fullness in my palm and breaking our kiss as I worked my way down her body to better service her hardened nipple. Tory leaned back, giving me a perfect fucking view of her with her shirt swinging wide and her skirt hitched up around her waist as I drove my finger in and out of her tight pussy. I yanked her bra down, my dick jerking at the sight of her pink nipple before my mouth descended on it and I sucked it between my lips, coupling the move with the addition of a second finger driving inside her. She moaned even louder, her pussy tightening like a vice around my fingers while I sucked on her nipple and felt her body surging towards its climax like I was playing the most exquisite instrument in the world. The moment I felt her coming for me, I reared up and kissed her hard, swallowing her cries of pleasure and tasting her lust as I dragged my tongue over hers. My dick was fucking aching and I growled with a desperate, needy plea of my flesh which I knew I didn't have time to answer as the heat of our kisses softened and I slowly drew my fingers back out of her, fixing her panties into place again. I broke off our kiss with a surge of effort, mentally planning to give Teddy the lesson from hell for forcing me to cut this shit short after I'd waited so long to claim it. Tory blinked up at me in surprise and I had to fight the urge to pout like a bitch as I read the desire in her body and knew she'd been hoping to come all over my cock again after that stunning first round. “I have a student coming in a minute to learn the art of Vampirism from an expert,” I explained, wishing I could just cancel the damn thing, but my mom had already been calling me out on not attending a bunch of these sessions and as our family name was linked to them, it was a bad look for me to miss any more of them. “So that was purely for my benefit?” Tory asked in surprise as she began to re-button her shirt. My jaw ticked with frustration, though I couldn't claim she was the only one of us who had gotten something out of that. “Oh no, I got plenty from that too,” I promised her, my gaze sweeping over her body appreciatively as I began to mentally plan all the things I wanted to do to every inch of her if I was lucky enough to get to do this with her again. (Caleb POV)

I lean toward him, close enough for a kiss. His eyes widen. The look in his face is some commingling of panic and desire. It is a heady feeling, having power over someone. Over Cardan, who I never thought had any feelings at all. “You really do want me,” I say, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath as it hitches. “And you hate it.” I change the angle of the knife, turning it so it’s against his neck. He doesn’t look nearly as alarmed by that as I might expect. Not nearly as alarmed as when I bring my mouth to his.

I told you I would worship at your feet.” I place a kiss on the inside of her thigh, and her breath hitches. “You’re everything to me, Moya zhizn. Don’t forget that.

She leaned in again, kissing me softly. “Just keep going and we’ll find out together.” I slowly moved my rough, callused hands up her body under my hoodie. Feeling the softness of her skin. Her breath hitched when my body fell forward, pushing her back onto the mattress to lay in between her thighs. Placing all my weight on my arms, I cradled her face and we made out like we were two teenagers who couldn’t get enough of each other. I usually hated kissing, it was pointless in my opinion. Although with Mila, I didn’t want to stop kissing her. Holding her. Being on top of her. My eyes followed the movement of her hands when she reached for the bottom of my hoodie, pulling it up over her head and discarding it on the floor. She was now topless, lying beneath me. “You’re beautiful, Mila.” She beamed, licking her lips. Beckoning me to continue down this uncharted territory between us. I groaned in satisfaction into the side of her neck, placing soft kisses on her pulse. Inch-by-inch, I deliberately took it slow. Confidently crawling my way down her body, I lightly skimmed my lips across her bare breasts, igniting tingles all over her skin against my mouth. Sucking in her nipple, I watched as her back arched off the bed and she fisted the sheets. Her body was begging, pleading with me to keep going and I happily obliged. Giving her what she wanted. Working my way down her stomach, my predatory glare never left her eyes as I continued my tour of her petite frame. “Do I keep going?” Through the slits of her heated gaze, she nodded. “Just so we’re clear… you want me to kiss—” I grinned “—down here?” She blushed. “You’re going to get all shy on me now? I’m barely hanging on by a thread here, Mila.” “My shyness is turning you on?” “Among other things.

Did you say you loved me, or was that just a fever dream?” “We have plenty of time to talk about this later.” “How long?” Az’s chest hitched at the thought of Madi not being there in the morning. Madi was quiet for a long moment before replying. “Forever if you want it… If you want me for that long.” “Longer,” Az swore. “Forever and long after.” Madigan rubbed his thumb over Az’s lower lip gently. “Mujhy ap say mohabat hai,” he said, kissing a trail along Az’s face to his bandaged shoulder. Az’s chest tightened and warmth radiated all the way to the smile that curved his lips. “I love you too, jaanum.” “You are ridiculously romantic for a stone-cold killer.” “It’s true,” Az said somberly, then tilted Madigan’s chin to brush another kiss over his lips. “Can this ridiculous man ask you for one small favor?” “Anything.” “Can I at least have a handjob? I’m so fucking turned on right now.” Madi snorted in surprise. “Yes, I suppose it’s the least I can do after shooting you.” “The very least. But maybe you could whisper a sonnet in my ear so it’s a romantic handjob.

They kiss again and then separate to adjust their swimsuits. A new light rises. Globular. Wavering. Silvery-pale. The moon? Good. They’ll have moonlight to help guide them to shore– No, not the moon. Too low, too close. A boat? Some late-returning sailboat or yacht bound for the marina? Even better; they can call out and signal and hitch a ride– No, not a boat. Not a boat at all.

Without thinking, I brought my hand up to cup her cheek. Her breath hitched. Tingles raced across my skin. What the fuck was I doing? Making my heart happy. I leaned in closer. And kissed Cleo.

And you really have an issue with where I’m from, don’t you?” “I don’t like liars.” “So now I’m lying? Why is it so hard to believe I’m from East Texas? Maybe I just don’t want you to know which town because I like to keep my life private.” “Maybe because you don’t sound like you’re from Texas.” She shrugged, but her stare was still full of a challenge. “Like, at all. Neither does Mason.” “So, you’re saying . . .” I rolled off the couch and took the few steps toward her. If she wanted me to sound like I was from Texas, then I was about to sound like I was from motherfucking Texas. “. . . if I had a drawl, you’d believe me?” Her breath hitched when I leaned over her body and put my hands on the couch on either side of her head. Our faces were just inches apart and I swear I almost groaned when she quickly licked her lips. Leaning in so my lips brushed her ear, I spoke soft and low. And yeah, with a fucking drawl. “Just say the word, darlin’. I’ll talk however you want me to.” Rachel shivered beneath me and I’m almost positive I stopped breathing for a few seconds. Her cheek brushed against mine as she turned into me, and I moved so our lips were centimeters apart. Her blue eyes were hooded as they searched mine, and I took the rapid rise and fall of her chest as a sign that she wanted this just as much as I did. My nose brushed hers and as I leaned closer to press my lips to hers, the door burst open and Rachel’s hands shot out to push against my chest. “Oh, well if I wasn’t gone long enough, I can come back.” Mason laughed loudly and Rachel slipped out from under my arm and took off for the door. Without a glance at either of us, she rushed out and over to her own apartment. “Jesus, Kash. You kiss that bad?” I

I want the same things out of life you do,” I admit. “I just go about them in a different way. You adapt to your environment, I adapt to mine.” I put my hand back on hers. “Let me show you I’m different. Oye, would you ever date a guy who couldn’t afford to take you to expensive restaurants and buy you gold and diamonds?” “Absolutely.” She slips her hand out from under mine. “But I have a boyfriend.” “If you didn’t, would you give this Mexicano a chance?” Her face turns a deep shade of pink. I wonder if Colin ever makes her blush like that. “I’m not answering that,” she says. “Why not? It’s a simple question.” “Oh, please. Nothing about you is simple, Alex. Let’s not even go there.” She puts the car in first gear. “Can we go now?” “Si, if you want. Are we cool?” “I think so.” I hold my hand out for her to shake. She eyes the tattoos on my fingers, then extends her hand toward mine and shakes it, her enthusiasm apparent. “To hand warmers,” she says with a smile on her lips. “To hand warmers,” I agree. And sex, I add silently. “Do you want to drive back? I don’t know the way.” I drive her back in comfortable silence while the sun sets. Our truce brings me closer to my goals: graduating, the bet…and something else I’m not ready to admit. As I pull her kick-ass car into the dark library parking lot, I say, “Thanks for, you know, lettin’ me kidnap you. I guess I’ll see you around.” Taking my keys out of my front pocket, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to afford a car that isn’t rusted, used, or old. After I step out of her car, I pull out Colin’s picture from my back pocket and toss it on the seat I just vacated. “Wait!” Brittany calls out as I’m walking away. I turn around and she’s right in front of me. “What?” She smiles seductively as if she’s wanting something more than a truce. Way more. Shit, is she gonna kiss me? I’m taken off guard here, which usually doesn’t happen. She bites her bottom lip, as if she’s contemplating her next move. I’m totally game to making out with her. As my brain goes through every scenario, she steps closer to me. And snatches my keys out of my hand. “What do you think you’re doin’?” I ask her. “Getting you back for kidnapping me.” She steps back and with all her might whips my keys into the woods. “You did not just do that.” She backs up, facing me the entire time, as she moves toward her car. “No hard feelings. Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it, Alex?” she says, trying to keep a straight face. I watch in shock as my chem partner gets into her Beemer. The car drives out of the lot without a jolt, jerk, or hitch. Flawless start. I’m pissed off because I’m going to have to either crawl around in the dark woods trying to find my keys or call Enrique to pick me up. I’m also amused. Brittany Ellis bested me at my own game. “Yeah,” I say to her even though she’s probably a mile away and can’t hear me. “Payback is a bitch.” ¡Carajoǃ

Do you want to drive back? I don’t know the way.” I drive her back in comfortable silence while the sun sets. Our truce brings me closer to my goals: graduating, the bet…and something else I’m not ready to admit. As I pull her kick-ass car into the dark library parking lot, I say, “Thanks for, you know, lettin’ me kidnap you. I guess I’ll see you around.” Taking my keys out of my front pocket, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to afford a car that isn’t rusted, used, or old. After I step out of her car, I pull out Colin’s picture from my back pocket and toss it on the seat I just vacated. “Wait!” Brittany calls out as I’m walking away. I turn around and she’s right in front of me. “What?” She smiles seductively as if she’s wanting something more than a truce. Way more. Shit, is she gonna kiss me? I’m taken off guard here, which usually doesn’t happen. She bites her bottom lip, as if she’s contemplating her next move. I’m totally game to making out with her. As my brain goes through every scenario, she steps closer to me. And snatches my keys out of my hand. “What do you think you’re doin’?” I ask her. “Getting you back for kidnapping me.” She steps back and with all her might whips my keys into the woods. “You did not just do that.” She backs up, facing me the entire time, as she moves toward her car. “No hard feelings. Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it, Alex?” she says, trying to keep a straight face. I watch in shock as my chem partner gets into her Beemer. The car drives out of the lot without a jolt, jerk, or hitch. Flawless start. I’m pissed off because I’m going to have to either crawl around in the dark woods trying to find my keys or call Enrique to pick me up. I’m also amused. Brittany Ellis bested me at my own game. “Yeah,” I say to her even though she’s probably a mile away and can’t hear me. “Payback is a bitch.” ¡Carajoǃ

As I close my chemistry book, out of the corner of my eye I see Alex run his hand through his hair. “Listen, I didn’t mean to be rude to you before.” “That’s okay. I got too nosy.” “You’re right.” I stand, feeling uncomfortable. He grabs my arm and urges me back down. “No,” he says, “I mean you’re right about me. I don’t place anything permanent here.” “Why?” “My dad,” Alex says, staring at the picture on the opposite wall. He squeezes his eyes shut. “God, there was so much blood.” He opens his eyes and captures my gaze. “If there’s one thing I learned, it’s that nobody is here forever. You have to live for the moment, each and every day…the here, the now.” “And what do you want right now?” Right now I itch to heal his wounds and forget my own. He touches my cheek with the tips of his fingers. My breath hitches. “Do you want to kiss me, Alex?” I whisper. “Dios mio, I want to kiss you…to taste your lips, your tongue.” He gently traces my lips with the tips of his fingers. “Do you want me to kiss you? Nobody else would know but the two of us.

Cecy, this is hardly the time and place for—” “A tryst?” She laughed. “You think I mean to trap you in this secluded cottage and have my wicked way with you? You should be so lucky. No, remove your shirt. I want a look at your arm.” “My arm?” His eyes narrowed. “Which one?” “Which one do you think?” She crossed to him and began unknotting the cravat at his neck. “The one you injured while wrestling the boar last night.” Oh, the look on his face . . . Cecily wanted to kiss him. He was so adorably befuddled. At last, he’d let slip that hard mask of indifference he’d been wearing since his arrival at Swinford Manor. And in its place—there was Luke. Engaging green eyes, touchable dark brown hair, those lips so perfectly formed for roguish smiles and tender kisses alike. This was the man she’d fallen in love with. The man she still loved now. Yes, he’d changed, but she had too. She was older, wiser, stronger than the girl she’d been. This time, she wouldn’t let him go. “You knew?” She smiled. “I knew.” His breath hitched as she slipped the cravat from his neck. Attempting to ignore the wedge of bare chest it revealed, and the mad pounding of her blood that view inspired, Cecily set to work on his waistcoat buttons. “How?” he asked, obeying her silent urgings to shed the garment. “How did you know?” “It’s a fortunate thing you weren’t assigned to espionage. You’ve no talent for disguise whatsoever. If I hadn’t suspected already, I would have figured it out this afternoon. My stocking was found in this remote cottage, and you just happen to know the secrets of the door latch? Then there’s the fact that you’ve been favoring your arm since breakfast.” She undid the small closure of his shirtfront before turning her attention to his cuffs. “But I knew you last night. I’d know your voice anywhere, not to mention your touch.” She gave a shaky sigh, unable to meet his questioning gaze. “It’s like you said, Luke. You still make me tremble, even after all these years.” His voice was soft. “I don’t even know why I followed you. The way we’d parted so angrily . . . I just couldn’t let you go, not like that.” “And I’m glad of it. You saved my life.

I know you still feel it, Ellie. I know I still make your heart pound and your breath hitch. I bet you have butterflies in your belly and shivers racing down your back. You feel the chemistry between us. The same electric pull that was there all those years ago. The same desire that swept through us anytime we were together. Even when we weren’t, all it took was one thought and it consumed us.” I trail a path of kisses up to her jaw and across her cheek. At the corner of her mouth, her lips parted as she pants, I pull back just far enough so I can see her gorgeous eyes. “I know you still feel it, because I still feel it too. It’s not going anywhere, no matter how much you fight it.

A laugh rustled in his throat as she hitched up against him desperately. "Be still," he whispered, brushing kisses across her parted lips. "Hold me inside you. Feel the way your body tightens around me." Breathing hard, Amelia tried to obey. Her flesh pulsed helplessly around the invading hardness. Cam made them both wait, their bodies perspiring and tense as they concentrated on that subtle, luscious clenching.

I didn’t deliberately check my speed, but when we neared the top, Rafe was still beside me. I slowed and he was right there, his face inches from mine. He grinned, that blazing grin now, hair plastered to his face, eyes glittering. I leaned over and kissed him. He hesitated for about a nanosecond, like he really hadn’t expected that, and I laughed. Then he kissed me back, a light kiss, almost teasing, making me shiver. “Probably not the safest place to make out,” I murmured, pulling back to glance at the ground, fifty feet below. “I don’t care if you don’t,” he said. We kissed until he tried to shift closer and nearly lost his foothold. I pulled away and scrambled up the last few feet. When he reached the top, I was standing there. He grinned and stepped toward me. I stepped back. His grin widened. I glanced over my shoulder. The cliff topped out on a hill, with forest stretching behind us, the mountains a distant backdrop. “Uh-uh,” Rafe said. “If you run, I’ll chase. You know how much I like that part.” “All the more reason to do it.” His breath hitched and the look in his eyes made me want to run. I didn’t care how silly or childish it was, I wanted to run so badly I could imagine it, the smell of the forest, the wind rushing past, the pounding of his feet right behind me. Suddenly he was right there, his mouth on mine, my arms around his neck. Then he stopped. He caught my arms and backed up, studying my face. “Has anyone had access to your drinks recently?” he said. “Any strange allergic reactions? Bug bites?” “Shut up.

She felt her breath hitch as she wondered what Darcy was going to do.  Hug her?  Kiss her?  Hell, Tamsin thought that if Darcy smacked her across the face she would have welcomed the contact.

Dominika uncapped the lipstick tube and wrote Ti Moy on Nathaniel Nash’s naked chest as she lay on top of him in bed in a CIA’s safe house. Dominika hitched herself a little higher and kissed him on the lips. “I hope that wasn’t one of your lipstick guns,” said Nate.

Never took you for someone so naughty." "Looks can be deceiving." "Ah, such a fucking smart mouth." "Face it, you love my smart mouth." "Hmm..." "What?" "Just thinking about all the things I want to do to that smart mouth." Her breath hitches in her throat. "You---" "Tell me what I'm thinking right now. If you guess right, maybe we'll make it happen." Eden's face fills with heat, her heart pounding in her chest. Her brain is about to melt. There are so many possibilities, so many scenarios. But one look from him, and she's a goner. Her tongue is a twisted knot. The fire pooling in the pit of her stomach has her unraveling at the seams. Alexander might have just broken her. Alexander can sense her struggle and chuckles, tenderly kissing her cheek. "What are you being so shy for? You started it, sweetheart. Come on, venture a guess." "What if I guess wrong?" "I doubt you will." He presses his forehead to hers, the tips of their noses bumping up against one another. "Say it," he whispers against her lips. "Say it." "I think..." Eden takes a deep but shaky breath. "I think you want to fuck me." "Among other things." She looks deep into his eyes and reads him like a book. "I think you want to fuck me hard. And then soft. All night, and then all morning. On my back. On my knees. You want to taste me. You want me to taste you." "I think you want me to make you beg," he says, still soft and only loud enough for her alone to hear. "You want to be taken against a wall. In my bed. On the fucking floor. You want me to make you tremble. You want to be fucked so good, your voice gives out. You want to feel sore in the morning. Isn't that right, Eden?" "Yes," she gasps, the word bubbling past her lips without a second thought.

Do you think about what I wrote in that letter, Red?" he asked me in a darkly seductive whisper, his short beard scraping over my shoulder as he kissed and bit my neck. "I do. All the time." I moaned, bucking my hips when his fingers found my clit. "Yes," I panted. His fingers stilled. As did his hips. Fuck. "Yes, what?" A low, frustrated and supremely aroused growl rumbled from my chest. "Yes, sir," I corrected. "All the fucking time. The other night I woke up after a dirty dream about you, and I got myself off to the things you wrote." There was a pause for a moment, then his lips moved on my shoulder in another kiss. "Next time you do that," he told me in a hoarse whisper, "send me a video." My brows hitched, but shit, I was game. "Done.