Devil's Thirst (The Moretti Men, #1)

by Jill Ramsower

Isaac: Your stalker show up? I type out a phony explanation before erasing all but one word and hitting send. Me: No Isaac: Lie to me again, and I’ll bend you over my knee.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but that’s not how this works. You chose me. I chose you. We haven’t fucked, but that’s only because I want you to get to know me first. We can skip ahead, though, if it means you start to understand that you’re mine.”

If you ask me, women are incredible strategists and are totally underutilized in our society. We make jokes about how their brains are always on, thinking of a million things at once, then we limit their access to leadership roles. It’s the fucking dumbest thing in the world. Totally counterintuitive.

“I wasn’t joking when I said I’m going to marry you. You’re mine. That means I’ll protect you at all costs. It also means I have the rest of my life to fuck you in every position imaginable, and I plan for us both to live very long, healthy lives. There is absolutely. No. Rush. Understand?”

“Baby, I stalked you, coerced my way into the apartment next door, then moved myself into your place—did you actually think I’d wait for a wedding when you agreed to marry me?”