She stared at him, horrified. And thrilled. And horrified at being thrilled.
He laughed. A strained, ha, ha, ha, I may die of this laugh.
Kate realized she had a grave problem. She was infatuated. Or mildly insane. Possibly both.
He had to feel those lips on him again. Had. To. This wasn’t a mild expression of preference. This was an imperative. His body was insistent. To continue his existence on this earth, he now needed the following: food, water, shelter, clothing, and Minerva Highwood’s lips.
What on earth are you wearing? Did you take orders in a convent since we spoke last? Little Sisters of the Drab and Homely.
Certainty becomes you.
Men never hesitated to declare their presence. They were permitted to live aloud, in reverberating thuds and clunks, while ladies were always schooled to abide in hushed whispers.
He kissed her. Without warning, without permission. Without even deciding to do it, but simply because he couldn’t have done anything else. He needed that breath she was holding. It belonged to him, and he wanted it back.
Sometimes he wondered if women were all lawyers, with an extensive code of Romantic Law that they kept stubbornly hidden from men.
I think you underestimate my capacity for taking normal human interaction and making it awkward.
She smiled. “Do you know, I suspected you were a good man, deep down. Even if very, very, very deep down. In a fathomless cavern. Underneath a volcano.
Emma Gladstone had learned a few hard lessons by the age of two-and-twenty. Charming princes weren’t always what they seemed. Shining armor went out of fashion with the Crusades. And if fairy godmothers existed, hers was running several years late. Most of the time, a girl needed to rescue herself.
Any self-respecting rake had two kinds of women in his life: those he took to bed at night and those who made him a pancake in the morning. If he suddenly wanted both from the same woman, it was a warning flag. One big and red enough for even a blind man to see.
At some point, while you were roaming the globe, making treaties and dividing the spoils of war, I quietly declared my own independence. I am the sovereign nation of Clio now. And there will be no terms of surrender.
Most lasses like it when a man kills the bugs. Along with reaching high places and giving sexual pleasure, it’s one of the few universally popular qualities we have on offer.
I can’t judge how beauty looks anymore,” he said. “But I know the sound of it. It sounds like a flowing river of wild, sweet honey. Beauty smells like rosemary, and it tastes of nectar. Beauty sneezes like a flea.” She smiled. That beautiful smile. How could she ever doubt her effect on him? “This is how plain you are.
The love of books was an instant connection, and a true boon for a girl who tended toward shyness, because it was a source of endless conversation. A hundred questions sprang up in her mind, jostling with each other to reach the front of the queue. Did he prefer essays, dramas, novels, poems? How many books had he read, and in which languages? Which ones had he read again and again?
Fortune was a heartless witch in perpetual anticipation of her monthly courses.
If Rafe had drawn up a list of tasks at Phoebe’s age, he could only imagine it would have looked thusly: 1. Skip lessons. 2. Chase girls. 3. Any excuse for a fistfight. 4. Is that a squirrel? End of list.
You’re not going to ruin my first kiss. I won’t let you. You’re going to kiss me again, right now. And make it better.