“Her eyes widened. “My.” She looked at him hesitantly and then bit her lip. “This might be more difficult than I realized. You’re a large man, aren’t you?” She blushed. “I mean, all over.”
He managed to nod. Yes, damn it. And getting excruciatingly larger by the minute.”
“She fit her hand around the curve of his whiskered jaw. “I’m sorry. But I knew you would not leave otherwise—”
“Damn right I would not have left,” he said gruffly. “Don’t you understand what you mean to me? You are everything. Never doubt that. My place is with you, only you.”
“His eyes flared, and he tightened his grip on her arm. “Don’t press me, Meg.”
She didn’t miss the intimate use of her Christian name, but there was no mistaking the threat this time.
His voice was deep and liquid and seemed to wrap around her. She knew she shouldn’t provoke him, but he brought out a mischievous side of her long forgotten. Lifting one brow, she asked, “Or what?”
Before the taunt had left her mouth, she was in his arms again and jerked firmly against the broad chest she’d just admired. She gasped. Not from shock, but from the realization of how much she liked being pressed against him. Of how she savored the sensation of her breasts and hips molded against the hard length of his body, of melting against him, of being secured in his arms. A wave of heated awareness shuddered through her.
His eyes were hooded, his expression dark and full of promise. “Or I will prove to you just how innocent you are, my sweet, and how very little control you have over a man and a man’s desires.”
“He stilled for a moment, savoring the sensation of being buried deep inside her, of filling her, of being joined together in God’s heavenly embrace. He held her gaze and pushed deeper, shuddering with a wave of pure tenderness. The look in her eyes stripped him to the core. He couldn’t move, wanting to preserve the moment, wanting never to forget how it felt to experience perfection.”
“He gave her everything. Everything but the promise of a future. And she met his dark strokes with a plunder of her own, holding his gaze, raking his soul of its secrets. She knew just what she meant to him.”
“Three weeks was apparently time enough to fall in love, but not long enough to fall out of love. Meg had this unfortunate truth drummed into her head each morning when she woke, hoping this would be the day that she forgot about Alex, this would be the day she could get on with her life and put Edinburgh behind her. She grimaced. Three weeks, three years, it didn’t make a difference. She would remember.
Everything.”
“We talked about each story for a while, and then Verla talked about heroes and villains. 'Nobody is all good or all bad,' she told us. 'The world is painted in shades of gray.”
“You have no spirit of culinary adventure. You need to be more like that snarky guy on the Travel Channel. He goes all over the world eating kangaroo a**holes and snail throw-up. He'd eat anything. He don't care how sick he gets. He's another one of my role models, except he needs ironing.”
“I respect you far too much to think that empty pride is the only motivator you could call on. I think what you call pride is something much more than that. Belief in yourselves, perhaps, or perseverance in the face of adversity. Those are things to be proud of. That’s not the same as being proud.”
“Sanguine took a moment, finding it hard to process the information. "He... this guy uses a wand? For real? He actually uses a wand? Like a wizard?... Don't the other Necromancers have any sense of pride? What's he gonna do next, fly around on a broomstick? This ain't Harry Potter.”
“This is what it felt like to have a broken heart. It felt less like a cracking down the middle and more like she had swallowed it whole and it sat bruised and bleeding in the pit of her stomach.”
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