Her fingertips rested on his cheek, like a constellation of unexpected kindness.
If you’re a broodmare, that would make me the stud.” “And there,” she said, “is the injustice of the world in a nutshell.
She managed to snag a fiber of rope with her fingernail. “I think I’m making progress.” “Thank God,” he breathed. “I’m not certain I can loosen it without a bit more slack. Is there any way you can press just a bit closer? A few moments, no more. All I need is a half inch.” He made a strangled noise. “If you must, but do it quickly. Otherwise we’re going to move a good seven inches in the wrong direction.” “What?” “Never mind.
He felt a twinge of conscience. Most people would think he didn’t have a conscience, but he did. It surfaced about as often as the lost island of Atlantis, but he did possess one, down deep. And it was bellowing at him now.
You don’t want to ruin the surprise.” “If the surprise is a spike through the chest, I do.
Instead of hugging the doll, Daisy attached herself to Chase’s leg, clinging to him with all four limbs. Alex rather wished she could do the same.
Alex worked for her living, setting clocks in the homes of wealthy customers, and she didn’t have time for dreams. She set goals, and she worked to achieve them. Feet on the ground, shoulders squared, and head on straight. She would not – absolutely not – be carried away with romantic fantasies.
You heard her the other night,” Bruiser said. “She wants love. And devotion and compromise. Funny, isn’t it, how women seem to want those things, when they’re saying words like ‘Till death do us part.
And before we begin, I should like one thing noted. I knew you had Secret Pain.
I’ve waited too long for this. Days. Weeks. Years.
Dukes and their problems.
He liked listening to her read. He liked it far too much. Listening to her voice was like floating along a river. Not a babbling stream, bouncing over rocks and such, but a river of wild honey with depth and a low, sweet melody. To keep afloat, he would have let her read just about anything.
Right. He’d bedded Venetian acrobats less flexible than his morality.
Pouring tea was just what she needed right now. Such a civilizing force, tea. She would nip sugar with little silver tongs. Stir milk with a tiny spoon. Tiny spoons were incompatible with a state of sensual turmoil.
She’d been mad for him as a girl, but she’d chalked that up to youthful infatuation. She’d tracked the events of his life religiously for a decade, but she’d told herself that was idle curiosity. And now... now she desired him so much she could scarcely stand, but surely that was only lust. Wasn’t it?
He set Miss Goodnight back on her feet. As he lowered her to the floor, her body slid down his, like a raindrop easing down the surface of a rock.
To continue his existence on this earth, he now needed the following: food, water, shelter, clothing, and Minerva Highwood’s lips.
Go on, then. Give it a pull.” Uncertainty drew his brows together. “What happens when I pull it?” “You don’t want to ruin the surprise.” “If the surprise is a spike through the chest, I do.
There’s a great deal you can sense about people without seeing them at all. Scents, sounds, textures. It amazes me sometimes how little attention I paid such things before I was injured. If there’s a boon in all this, it’s that I notice things I would have overlooked.
He’s brilliant at caring for others. He’s bollocks at letting others care for him.