“One day, I wish to find a man like in my
books. He has to be just like in one of my books.
And he has to love me, love me more than anything
in the world. Most important of all, he has
to think I’m beautiful.”
“Lily, I need to tell you something.” Fazire
was going to tell her about Becky’s wish and his
mistake and let her look forward to something, let
her look forward to the incomparable beauty she
was going to be.
Most of all, he had to stop her wish now. He
didn’t want her wasting it on some fool idea. He
wanted it to be special, perfect, to make her world
better like she had made Becky and Will’s and,
indeed, his.
But again she didn’t hear him. Her eyes were
bright and they were steady on his.
“He has to be tall, very tall and dark and
broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped.”
Fazire stared. He didn’t even know what
“narrow-hipped” meant.
“And he has to be handsome, unbelievably
handsome, impossibly handsome with a strong,
square jaw and powerful cheekbones and tanned
skin and beautiful eyes with lush, thick lashes.
He has to be clever and very wealthy but hardworking.
He has to be virile, fierce, ruthless and
rugged.”
Now she was getting over his head. He didn’t
think there was such a thing as impossibly handsome.
How cheekbones could be powerful,
Fazire didn’t know. He was even thinking he
might have to look up “virile” in the dictionary
Sarah had given him.
“And he has to be hard and cold and maybe a
little bit forbidding, a little bit bad with a broken
heart I have to mend or one encased in ice I have
to melt or better yet… both!”
Fazire thought this was getting a bit ridiculous.
It was the most complicated wish he’d ever
heard.
But she wasn’t yet finished.
“We have to go through some trials and tribulations.
Something to test our love, make it strong
and worthy. And… and… he has to be daring and
very masculine. Powerful. People must respect
him, maybe even fear him. Graceful too and lithe,
like a… like a cat! Or a lion. Or something like
that.”
She was losing steam and Fazire had to admit
he was grateful for it.
“And he has to be a good lover.” Lily shocked
Fazire by saying. “The best, so good, he could almost
make love to me just by using his eyes.”
Fazire felt himself blush. Perhaps he should
have a look at these books she was reading and
show them to Becky. Lily was a very sharp girl,
sharp as a tack (another one of Sarah’s sayings,
although Fazire couldn’t imagine a tack ever being
as clever as Lily) but she was too young to
be reading about any man making love to her
with his eyes. Fazire had never made love, never
would, genies just didn’t. But he was pretty certain
fourteen year old girls shouldn’t be thinking
about it.
Though, he was wrong about that, or at least
Becky would tell him that later.
Then Fazire realised she’d stopped talking.
“Is that it?” he asked.
She thought for a bit, clearly not wanting to
leave anything out.
Then she nodded.”
“You told me you’d never let me go,” she
whispered but it was an accusation.
His eyes closed and the pain in them swept
over his entire face and settled there like it would
never, ever leave.
Then he shocked her again. He dropped his
forehead to hers and kept his hands on her.
Something out of her control made her continue.
“You told me,” she said in a shaky voice,
“you’d always take care of me.”
He opened his eyes and stared into hers. He
was so close that if she moved the lower half of
her face forward, less than an inch, she would
have been kissing him.
“You didn’t take care of me,” she murmured,
stating the obvious.”
“After that, Lily was recuperating and then
dealing with significant financial hardships. The
birth was described to me by Lily and also by
her obstetrician, who I spoke to myself yesterday.
The doctor, in his own words, remembers what
he describes as that ‘hideous day’ like it was yesterday.
The labour, intense and excruciating, lasted
for days. In the end, in extreme distress at
the length of the labour, the baby nearly died.
Lily did die. She was flatline for two minutes and
thirty-eight –”
Alistair didn’t get the opportunity to finish his
grand statement because Nate surged out of his
chair so fast, it flew on its wheels and shot across
the room, slamming into the wall.
“Mr. McAllister…” Alistair said warningly
but Nate was coming swiftly around the table,
coming at her.
At this sight, Lily, too, jumped out of her chair
in a panic, her numbness not that complete, and
backed away in self-defence as Nate came at her,
came at her with purposeful, long strides. She
backed up jerkily, one hand behind her, one hand
in front, retreating until she hit the wall. Before
she knew what he was about, his hard chest came
up against her hand, pushing it back and his body
pressed against hers.
Terrified and confused at this sudden change,
she looked to the right and to the left, anywhere
for escape, anywhere but at Nate.
And to her shock, his hands caught her face,
resting one on either side, gently trying to force
her to look into his impossibly dark eyes.
“I didn’t know,” he whispered and the absolute
ache dripping from his first words said to her
since she found out he was alive cut through her
thin shield of numbness like a razor.
She attempted to pull her face free but his
hands tightened.
“Lily, I didn’t know,” he repeated, and she
caught his eyes and they were glittering dark with
something that she couldn’t read, something
hideously painful and she had to get away from
it. Was desperate to get away from it. She needed
to flee.
She tried to look over his shoulder but he was
too tall, too close. Things were happening in the
room, there was urgent talk, maybe even a tussle.
But all she could see was Nate.”
“However, at fourteen years old, she didn’t understand that all those terrible troubles the heroines in her books went through in real life hurt.
That the words were just words on a page, but in real life, the pain was immense. Trials and tribulations to prove your love were exactly that, trials and tribulations.”
“But Fazire didn’t do exactly what she said.
He did make her perfect.
He made her bright and funny and very, very
talented.
He made her sweet and thoughtful and very,
very caring.
He made her generous and kind and very, very
loving
He decided not to make her beautiful, at least
not at first, because she should know humility
and not grow up with conceit.
Though, she would become a beauty, a splendid
beauty beyond compare.
Just… later.”
“Our story begins eight years ago when Ms.
Jacobs was living in London with Mr. McAllister.
However, she had to leave the country urgently
due to a family emergency.”
“Considering the ‘he-was-dead’ defence, I’m
sure this will be hugely entertaining.” Lily didn’t
see it but she heard the scoffing behind Nate’s attorney’s
tone, that would be attorney number two
or Sarcastic Attorney. Her startled eyes moved to
the man who, she noted distractedly, was staring
at her with extreme distaste.
“Well, I’m not sure one would describe losing
both of one’s parents in a plane crash as ‘entertaining’,”
Alistair noted blandly.”
“Take my advice,” Victor said and Nate’s eyes
shifted to him again, “get the girl pregnant. It
worked for me with Laura.” After saying this, he
grinned cheekily.”
“We have to go through some trials and tribulations. Something to test our love, make it strong and worthy. And… and… he has to be daring and very masculine. Powerful. People must respect him, maybe even fear him. Graceful too and lithe, like a… like a cat! Or a lion. Or something like that. And he has to be a good lover. The best, so good he could almost make love to me just by using his eyes.”
“And he has to be handsome, unbelievably handsome, impossibly handsome with a strong, square jaw and powerful cheekbones and tanned skin and beautiful eyes with lush, thick lashes. He has to be clever and very wealthy but hard-working. He has to be virile, fierce, ruthless and rugged.”
“And he has to be hard and cold and maybe a little bit forbidding, a little bit bad with a broken heart I have to mend or one encased in ice I have to melt or better yet, both!”
“I’m the man who’s going to put your lush body on the back of his bike and take you to my flat. Then I’m going to take every piece of that lovely outfit off that lush body. Then I’m going to take you to my bed and I’m going to memorise, slowly, every inch of your skin. Then I’m going to watch you come while I’m inside you. That’s who I am.” Her”
“He has to be tall, very tall and dark, and broad-shouldered, and narrow-hipped.”
“Her slender arms instantly circled his neck so that she could press her body against his hard frame. "I am a superstar,lifemate,yet you wish to leave me along at every opportunity. There are men everywhere who would be happy to take your place by my side."
He bent his head, his teeth scraping a provocative rythm over her pulse. Desari went liquid, boneless, her stomach clenching in anticipation. "No, they would not be happy to take my place at your side,cara mia, because I would promptly end their lives in a most unhappy way."
"You are such a caveman, Julian. You look tall and elegant and princely, yet you have not matured beyond the cave." Desari allowed her tongue a brief inspection of the taste of his skin. She closed her eyes to savor the moment.
"I have no intention of rising above caveman mentality," he growled in her ear, his breath teasing tendrils of hair and sending little flames dancing through her bloodstream. "There are so many benefits for the caveman."
"You like playing the part of the dominant male,no doubt," she whispered, her voice so husky with need that his body tightened in urgent, painful response. Her mouth moved over his throat, her hands seeking skin beneath his shirt. "I have a need of you, lifemate, and you are deliberately ignoring your sworn duties to me."
"Little minx.”
“One At A Time A friend of ours was walking down a deserted Mexican beach at sunset. As he walked along, he began to see another man in the distance. As he grew nearer, he noticed that the local native kept leaning down, picking something up and throwing it out into the water. Time and again he kept hurling things out into the ocean. As our friend approached even closer, he noticed that the man was picking up starfish that had been washed up on the beach and, one at a time, he was throwing them back into the water. Our friend was puzzled. He approached the man and said, “Good evening, friend. I was wondering what you are doing.” “I’m throwing these starfish back into the ocean. You see, it’s low tide right now and all of these starfish have been washed up onto the shore. If I don’t throw them back into the sea, they’ll die up here from lack of oxygen.” “I understand,” my friend replied, “but there must be thousands of starfish on this beach. You can’t possibly get to all of them. There are simply too many. And don’t you realize this is probably happening on hundreds of beaches all up and down this coast. Can’t you see that you can’t possibly make a difference?” The local native smiled, bent down and picked up yet another starfish, and as he threw it back into the sea, he replied, “Made a difference to that one!” Jack Canfield and Mark V. Hansen”
“Most advances in technology occur because they’re either trying to impress women or blow things up. It’s as predictable as the sunrise.”
“La stupidità ci faceva ridere, era uno dei nostri grandi motivi di spasso, ma aveva anche qualcosa di spaventevole. Se avesse prevalso, non avremmo più avuto il diritto di pensare, di prendere in giro, di provare veri desideri, veri piaceri. Bisognava combatterla o rinunciare a vivere.”
“Here’s the deal. Willi’s bought the rights to a paperback best-seller called The White Slaver. It’s a piece of formulized shit written for illiterate fourteen-year-olds and the kind of lobotomized housewife that lines up to buy the new Harlequin romances each month. Jack-off material for intellectual quadriplegics. Naturally it sold about three million copies. We”
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