The Casanova Tl Swan Quotes

In the darkness, in her arms, I listen to her heartbeat. And I lose sight of mine.

Yes . . . you are. I know your scent.” His eyes hold mine. “And . . . today it’s different.” He knows my scent . . . what the fuck?

I knew in my heart that I was called to them for a reason. It’s you, Kate, you are the reason.

Send two ambulances,” I bark. “I’m about to have a fucking heart attack myself.

If I don’t look pretty, nobody will notice me . . . and my heart can never get broken again.

I can see the headline now,” Tristan says. “Death by duck.

He puts his mouth to my ear. “Did you touch yourself?” he whispers. His breath tickles my skin and goosebumps scatter up my arms. “Did you?” I ask. His lips dust mine. “Every day. Coming is my favorite pastime.

You feel more at home at my home . . . or maybe it’s me that feels at home when you’re there.

Destiny is fucking me up the ass, that’s what.” Tristan raises an eyebrow. “Strap-on, or cock?

Don’t stop. Multitask. Suck and listen.

If you think I’m sharing your orgasms with a battery-operated device, you’re deluded, Kathryn.

Have a safe trip home this afternoon, don’t walk in front of a bus or anything.

Do not speak to me like that and then barge in here with demands. I’m unsure how things work for you with other women, but I can assure you, it doesn’t cut it with me.” I

Anywhere will do. I don’t care if we go camping. Maybe next time we can?” “Yeah, okay.” He chuckles as he opens the door. “My brother has told me all about camping, I’ll meet you there.” I smile: that’s code for I’m never going camping.

Look, I never believed in fate. I always thought that I would meet some beautiful young woman and it would be easy,” Tristan says. I listen intently. “And then I met Claire, and everything I thought I wanted went out the window. Her kids hated me and I had to fight tooth and nail to convince her to love me. Never in a million years did I ever imagine my life as it is now. But I honestly believe I am where I’m meant to be. Claire and those kids were meant for me, and the bigger picture of my destiny was already mapped out. They were my family long before I even met them; perhaps before they were even born it was decided that they would end up being mine.

I screw up my face; what the fuck is he going on about? “Elliot, I don’t—” “Open it,” he barks. Jeez, psycho . . . I open the envelope and my eyes widen. I flick through the images, confusion takes me over. I know these paintings . . . I did these paintings. My eyes rise to meet his. “All those years, all that time . . . it was you,” he whispers. Goosebumps scatter up my spine. He drops to his knees on the floor in front of me, takes my hands in his. “It was you who was calling me through those paintings.

I’m just usually upset or ruffled after she leaves. You know when you spend time with someone and they kind of suck the life out of you.

I’m not fucking stupid, Kate, he’s all over you like a rash.

It’s the silence that kills you. The things that aren’t said.

Listen, I don’t know what you should say.” He digs around in my suitcase. “I’ve got my own worries. I just showed my mother my hairy helmet.

We lie in the darkness, so physically close and yet I’ve never felt so alone.

Elliot Miles is a million things, but most of all . . . he’s mine.

And I’m not talented or special, least of all extraordinary

Did you order me a big dildo?

Is it too early for a Scotch?” I ask. Christopher looks at his watch. “It’s nine-fifteen a.m.” I inhale heavily as I try to calm myself down. “Who fucking cares.

The room spins as I begin to panic. “Send two ambulances,” I bark. “I’m about to have a fucking heart attack myself.

Send a fucking ambulance before I put my hand through this phone and strangle you,” I scream.

I fake a smile, imagine myself slamming her head in the door as I walk through it.

My face falls. “Why?” “I don’t want farm animals, Kathryn, I’m not Old McFucking Donald.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Remind me never to do cocaine with you,” I mutter dryly.

And maybe he better get his act together or else he’s getting dumped.” I smirk. “Maybe you should be quiet now?” “Don’t shush me, Elliot, and so help me God if you fucking ever flirt with someone in another language in front of me again—

Elliot opens the gate to the top paddock and leads him in. “You are now grounded to the top paddock.” “Bahahaha,” Billy bleats. “Seeing that you can’t be trusted.” Oh my lord, this is priceless. Tough guy Elliot Miles grounding his goat. He undoes the rope around Billy’s neck. “I’m watching you, fucker. One wrong move and it’s off to . . .” He pauses as he thinks of the right wording. “The knackers.” “Bahahaha.” “Do you know what they do to naughty goats there?” he asks. I burst out laughing. “Go inside,” Elliot snaps. I turn and walk inside as I continue to laugh. “Bahahaha,” Billy bleats. “Stop making that noise, too,” Elliot barks.

Elliot opens the door in a rush. “Fuck off, ducks,” he snaps. They jump over his feet and run inside. “What the hell?” he cries. They run through the house with their wings up in the air, squawking loudly. “What are you doing?” Elliot screams. I burst out laughing. “Get out of my house!” he yells as they all jump up at him. “What the fuck are they doing?” They are so loud and making such a commotion. It’s him they want, they’re all jumping up at him, and he storms outside and they all run after him. “Fuck off,” he cries as he tries to get away from them. “Call somebody.” I tip my head back and laugh loud. “Who do I call?” The sight of Elliot Miles running down the pathway with a bunch of ducks chasing him is simply too much and I nearly fall over as I laugh hard. “This isn’t fucking funny, Kathryn,” he yells, and he kicks out to try and move them and they squawk louder. “Fuck off, ducks!

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I don’t want to be anywhere near those paintings; I left Kate for those.

My heart is freefalling from my chest and I have no way of stopping it. Nor would I want to.

I’ve never felt like this before. There’s no border between us; the separation of the two of us is blurred. She’s like an extension of my body . . . only, in a better way.

single

Casanova Miles, goat-matchmaker extraordinaire.

I’m going to hand over my credit cards, resign, and grow a beard,” he continues. “Go backpacking for twelve months. A do-over of sorts. I’m going to come back with someone who loves me for me.

We kiss and hold each other and, with an intimacy I’ve never known, she takes me. And holds me. And ruins me forever.

Four hours and three bottles of wine later, and with Stevie Nicks playing in the background,

I point to Harriet. “How do you know her?” I demand. “She’s our sister, Elanor.

It was always Kate,” I whisper. “Of course it was.

And I know it shouldn’t, but this feels real.

I’m looking for someone who is only one color, but not one size. Stuck at the bottom, yet easily flies. Present in sun, but not in rain. Doing no harm, but feeling no pain.

This isn’t Jack and the Beanstalk, Brianna, you don’t go to fucking market to sell a pig.

A goat?” he snaps. His eyes meet mine and I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling. “A fucking what?” he explodes. “A pony and a pig? No way. Not on your life. Come and take them away. Right. Now.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Who the hell do I sell them to?” he fires back. “This isn’t Jack and the Beanstalk, Brianna, you don’t go to fucking market to sell a pig.” I burst out laughing, Elliot glares at me, and I slap my hand over my mouth.

What the fuck is that?” I whisper. “I don’t know.” Christopher frowns as he watches it run back and smash its head as hard as it can. “Some kind of psychotic sheep.” Our eyes meet. “What is this godforsaken place?” I whisper. Suddenly we hear squawks from behind us, and we turn to see the ducks running toward us up the hill, full throttle. Their wings are in the air, beaks open and ready to attack. “Run,” I cry as I take off in the direction of the house. “Ahh, fuck,” Christopher cries. I grab the keys from my pocket, the sound of angry ducks coming up close. I look down at the keys on the overcrowded keyring. “Oh no.” “What?” Christopher cries as he runs alongside me. “I don’t know what key it is.” “How can you not know what fucking key it is?” he cries. “The car. Run for the car.

You have food, you have water. You have the whole fucking paddock to yourself. Is that not good enough for you, you spoilt fucking goat?

Aren’t you all wanked out?” I laugh as I hang upside down. “I saw the blisters.

Elliot Miles, are you asking me to marry you, buck naked with an erection?” He looks down at himself and then breaks into a slow smile. “I guess I am.

I don’t want farm animals, Kathryn, I’m not Old McFucking Donald.

That statement right there is why you aren’t in a relationship. When you love someone, you give them your heart, not your fucking balls, you dipshit.

I get a vision of myself punching him fair and square in the face.

I begin to rattle through Kate’s bag, wallet, keys, makeup . . . tampons. I wince and throw them over my shoulder.

He leads me through to the seating map and I glance over and see Elliot Miles. “Fuck,” I whisper as I turn my head away in disgust. “What now?” “My fucking boss is here.” “So?” “So . . . he’s a giant twat,” I whisper angrily. “I can’t see him, looking like this.

So, this is your plan?” he sneers. “Plan?” “Turn your stupid boss on, until he cracks and pursues you. Then you have him charged with sexual harassment in the workplace.” My mouth falls open in horror. “What?” “Oh, please.” He screws up his face in disgust. “It’s clear as day now—the hot little dress, turning up at that event looking like a walking fucking orgasm and then going home with another man. The sauna, ha.” He throws his head back. “The sauna was a good one, what chance do I have seeing you hot and sweaty in a bikini like that?” I stare at him as my brain misfires. I turn him on.

We need to make his balls so blue that they fall off . . . until he’s begging.” “He’s not going to beg.” “Oh yes, he is.” I roll my eyes as I bite the food from my fork. “Great. The way you’re spending my money I really do need to earn a bonus.” “Do it on your knees,” Daniel says with a raise of his glass. “Earn that dirty money, girlfriend. Tell him you’ll swallow for a company car.” “Stop.” I laugh. “Will you shut up?” “Just saying.” He shrugs. I try to hide my smile as I chew my food. I’d swallow for free.

He picks up my necklace and straightens it around my neck, and puts the pendant to the front. He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear as he stares at me. I can’t breathe. He leans down and puts his lips to my ear. “I want you, Kate.” He softly bites my ear and goosebumps scatter up my arm. “I want you underneath me.

Elliot Casanova Miles is the great love of my life, and I don’t know how it worked out that way, but I honestly don’t think I can go on without him. I wouldn’t want to.

If you’re trying to wake her, you don’t need to whisper,” Andrew mutters. “Eyes on the road,” I snap. Smart-ass. He chuckles as he gets out, and opens the back door on my side.

I’ve come three times and still he won’t stop. He’s proving without a doubt that he holds the sexual power between us and I can’t argue, there’s no contest. When we are both naked, he owns me.

His eyes hold mine as he lifts his Scotch to his lips and takes a sip, emotionless and cold. He’s fucking pissed. Out-of-control Elliot Miles is manageable. Cold and calculating Elliot Miles is a completely different story. This situation is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

We fall silent as we stare at each other. “You’re a bad man, Mr. Miles,” she whispers. A slow smile crosses my face. “And you’re a dirty girl. Get those fucking legs up, Landon, and work my cock.” I bite her neck with force, the need to bruise her overwhelming.

It’s not even a steamy affair . . . it’s a business transaction of seminal fluid.

The patient is about to get knocked back out. That’s what’s happening.

I smirk and hit send; being a sarcastic bitch to Elliot Miles is my favorite hobby.

The driver gets out of the car and opens the back door, and Elliot Miles climbs out. Like some kind of morning spectacle that I go through every day, my eyes roam up and down the man I despise. Today he’s wearing a navy-blue pinstripe suit with a white shirt, his dark hair curled to just-fucked perfection. I watch him do up his jacket with one hand, his briefcase in his other. His back is ramrod-straight, his stance dominant. Arrogance personified.

Elliot Miles, the epitome of a rich bastard . . . pisses me off.