The Irresistible Urge to Fall for Your Enemy (Dearly Beloathed, #1)

by Brigitte Knightley

“Shouldn’t we go in?” “Why must you be sensible?” “One of us ought to be.” But they weren’t sensible. They were tipsy. They danced in the rain.

While it lasted, the kiss was eternal. And it was too much and too little, and it was unhallowed, and it was sacrosanct.

When he had asked her to put the poor bastard out of his misery, he hadn’t been referring to Perfect Aedan. He had been talking about himself.

He and she sat in the moonlight as lover and beloved.

He hadn’t paid attention. He had been stupid—gods, so stupid. He no longer owned his heart. The thief was unconscious of her crime. She asked, “Is something the matter?”

It hadn’t been love at first sight, but at last sight—gods, at last sight— Far above, the moon hung like a promise.