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And then of course, he appeared. The storm clouds to her sunshine. The bah humbug to her Christmas.
Excellent 😏😁
"And thus I have few redeeming social attributes. I am going to die a virgin, and—" Kincaid suddenly looked like he wanted to spray his mouthful of tea across the table. "Oh my goodness. I cannot believe I said that. I think the stress of the riot has gone to my head. My brain's not working anymore." Kincaid succumbed to a coughing fit, shoving his teacup away from him. "Jaysus." His face went red, his eyes wild. "Forget I said it. I'm not— I'm not going to die a virgin, I mean... I probably will, but I don't want to, and— I'm so sorry!" Ava slammed a hand over her mouth. Stop talking, you
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can't help myself sometimes." "Please don't ever change, Ava. I find you intriguing, conversational gaffes and all," he admitted, though the admission might as well have been pulled from him. Almost grumbling under his breath, he added, "You're not like any other woman I've ever met." Ava threw her hands in the air. "You see?" Hopeless. She might as well condemn herself to a nunnery.
"Are you all right?" Ava peered up at him curiously. "You keep repeating everything I say."
Pretend all you like, kitten. I know you shiver when I touch you. I know you blush every time I look at you. I know you think wicked thoughts whenever I flirt with you. It's written all over your face, in the catch of your breath, the way your cheeks flush with heat."
"I've been taught not to believe in coincidence and not to make judgment until we have solid evidence. If you lock your mind into a position, then it's very easy to convince yourself with the merest fragment of proof."
Kincaid would flirt with her dead grandmother.
"I think together, you and I would be explosive. I sometimes see you looking at me, and there's some part of you that wants to be utterly wicked. And I want to help you unleash her. I want to be wicked with you, see if we're just as good together as I suspect we'd be."
Ulbricht's been toying with the young sons of the Echelon, and playing to their sympathies with his tales of how things were better in the good old days. Half of his SOG are stupid young nobles who are fresh out of their Blood Rites and perfectly content to tattoo their allegiance on their wrists. It's not them I'm interested in. They're the sheep."
Sounds familiar 🤔
"Your great, big intellect makes me want to do naughty things to you, Miss McLaren."
"Why do you always know the perfect thing to say?" "Haven't you realized yet?" he drawled. "I'm the perfect man."
Nothing interested her quite as much as esoteric information.
"Love? What's love to a man like me? Or a woman like you?" "It's everything we ever secretly hoped for," Gemma whispered.
Every little flicker of thought that went through her mind displayed itself on her expressive face. It was one of the things that intrigued him about Ava. He could never resist teasing her, when it was so easy to see the results of his words.
"You'd rolled your sleeves up, and I kept thinking of the muscles in your arms, the blue of your eyes."
Female gaze
"I had a plan," he rasped, rocking her against him so his erection rode over the swell of her clitoris. "It did not include taking you in the carriage." Sensation speared through her. Ava cupped the back of his broad neck and arched her spine, shamelessly riding him. "I would not... be averse to that."
Carriage sex!
Kincaid clasped his hands behind his head, a small smile playing across his mouth. "All right, I admit it. I wanted you to have your fairy tale, even if it was just for one night. Instead, you corrupted me in the carriage."
Complete opposites in every way, and yet she complemented him, fitted so perfectly against him. She gave him hope, and laughter, and a lightness that had been missing from his life for years, and he drove her to stand up for herself, and to see how perfect she was despite her own misgivings.
"You've both been gone. You missed a great many changes around here. I'm willing to concede blue bloods aren't all that bad. Present company excluded, of course." He coughed under his breath. "Asshole." "Prick." Byrnes shot him a smile.
