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A man cannot be good unless he possesses the capacity to be evil. Decency is a choice. It’s being tempted by hatred and following a different path no matter how difficult. It’s looking inward with a magnifying glass and acknowledging the flaws and weaknesses in one’s character.
We don’t just love. We love hard, with every bone, sinew, and breath in our bodies.
they’re built the same, as if carved from a single hunk of testosterone-infused stone.
There’s an air about them, a confidence, an authoritative intensity that grabs a woman by the ovaries and reduces her to her most primitive core.
I crave that kind of relationship, one where I can put absolute trust in a lover to fuck me however he pleases, to hurt me with pleasure-pain and take care of me afterward.
“Didn’t realize you like to watch.”
“How fucking beautiful you are, all fiery and worked-up with your teeth bared and nipples begging to be bruised. Can’t remember the last time I was this hard.”
There’s attraction. There’s sexual desire. Then there’s this.
“One touch, and I know everything there is to know about your turn-ons.”
“How the fuck are you the sperm that won?” “I can explain it to you, but I can’t understand it for you.”
But he already said this won’t be safe. I have no one to blame but myself.
“She represents all the chickens that need to be saved.”
“This is the first time I’ve ever considered missing a day of work.” His hands lower from my face. “You love it that much?” He nods. “Not as much as I love the look in your eyes.”
Seeing her in my things today—my boots, my hat, my shirt… It stirs something indescribable inside me.
Maybe Quinn might dress like a reporter, but she doesn’t behave like one.
She’s going to fall in love with you. That’s not the danger here. It’s me. I’m slipping, and I fucking know it. I need to pull back.
“I’m willing to work for this. I want to. But I need you to work for it, too. Meet me in the middle.”
“You needed my fingers in your cunt, destroying it, owning it, you dirty, filthy girl.”
Finally. Fucking finally, I have her. Wild and molten, wet and volatile, her fight is beautiful, but her surrender is goddamn exquisite.
I’ve never felt so desperate, vulnerable, reckless, and alive.
He removes his hat and sets it on the counter. My throat closes.
“I want children with you.” “What?” My heart stops. “You heard me.” “Children? Have you lost your mind?” I scramble out from beneath him. “I don’t mean right now.” He stands and tucks himself into his jeans. “I just… With you, I want marriage and kids and all of it. You’re it for me. Today, tomorrow, and all the tomorrows after.”
“I’m a Maybe man.”
“I want to hear you scream.” “Make me.”
“We have tomorrow night.” I arch against him. “And all the tomorrows after.”
His gaze dances over mine, never looking away as fear fuels arousal, worry gives way to pleasure, and resistance morphs into acceptance.
I’ve fallen deeply, madly, insanely in love with him.
“I won’t leave you. I would sell my soul if it meant never losing you.”
“Take your space, your time, whatever you need. But I won’t let you take forever. That belongs to me. Your forever is mine.”
Love is as invisible as the wounds it inflicts and as lethal as a knife. When it’s taken away, all that remains is pain.
True love is finding my soulmate when I wasn’t searching for him. It was the depth of my smile when I worked beside him. It was putting his happiness over mine.
“Living without you is a form of death. A death I refuse to accept.”
She’s my serenity and my fire, my first and last breath.
Love. The most powerful healing force in the universe.
