It wasn’t about a women’s weight, it was about who they were, if that brightness shone through their eyes and skin and hair. Ricco found beauty in art. Women were a form of art. All shapes and sizes. All body types.
The cell wanted to overthrow the government and to do that, they were hurting their own people. Draden had never seen the logic in that, how could they convince themselves that what they were doing was justified because they believed in the endgame.
She found him very hard to resist, and if she was truthful with herself, she wasn’t trying that much.
For one moment, their eyes locked. His were blue, but that was far too mundane to describe them. Almost a pure dark blue, a true navy. She’d seen them for a second, but it didn’t matter with her enhanced vision. She would dream about those eyes for the rest of her life.
Honey, he’s not worth it. No matter how much money he’s got, not matter how big a ring he puts on your finger, if he puts his hands on you, you should run the opposite way as fast as you can.
She hadn’t expected the intamacy of his voice in her head. It had a smoothness to it that gave way now and then to gravel.
Poetry in motion,” she murmured under her breath. She’d heard that expression, but now she knew what it meant, how the words could come alive with a man moving.
He held her, his arms tight around her, trying to tell her without words, that no matter what, he would be there for her.
She saw him, that man who kept himself isolated, so separate from the rest of the world. She saw him for who he was, and she liked him anyway.
His mouth came down on hers and then he was just possessing her. Taking her over. Leaving her with nothing of herself because she burned up in the fire he generated.
He knew as much as he was deliberately seducing her, she was doing the same for him, although innocently. She wasn’t in the least trying and his body was already hers and always would be.
First game I win, I get your panties. The second game I win, I make you scream.
He worked well with the GhostWaljers, as a member of that team, but having Shylah as a partner was eye-opening. She seemed to anticipate every possibility as he did, and she took steps to protect him more fiercely than any person ever had.
Shylah’s soft laughter slid into Draden’s mind. Warm like honey, filling him up when he hadn’t known he was empty.
She didn’t want any contact with Whitney at all. He was the boogeyman. He’d held absolute authority over her for her entire life. Defying him was difficult. It said a lot that Shylah was willing to die-that she would choose a horrific death rather than go back to him.
The rest of my life isn’t that long, so I don’t know how big a compliment it is. One day? Two?” She rubbed her chin along his chest. “Stay humble, my man.
He wanted to believe in another life where he could have his woman for more than the short time it appeared they had left, but if he didn’t ever get that, he would celebrate every second with her now.
She knew every scar, every tattoo. She had traced every one of those scars and tattoos with her tongue. With her fingertips. She’d memorized them until they were etched so deeply in her brain, she could have drawn them and gotten every detail perfect.
Steele could be so completely still, it felt like he could disappear. His energy would get so low that you could forget he was in your space. He never missed anything when he was like that. He took in the smallest detail.
Peonies are beautiful perennials. A classic, really. Every garden should have them. They’re dependable, have a timeless, elegant beauty and will bloom with very little attention.” He was silent for a moment while she switched branches and he followed. “Like you.