Gleam (The Plated Prisoner, #3)

by Raven Kennedy

Misery may love company, but anger thrives on it.

“I want all of you,” he tells me, a newfound hunger in the depths of his green eyes that stirs heat beneath my skin. “Every piece, every memory, every minute, every inch. This isn’t going to be some casual dalliance. This isn’t going to be temporary. I want you soul, mind, and body. I want your trust and your thoughts. I want your past, your present, your future. So make very certain that you want me for the right reasons. Be certain that you’re choosing this, because once you do, there’s no turning back.”

“Not exactly that phrase, no. But with you, I have to hear what you’re not saying in order to read the whole page of your words.” His voice pitches lower, right along with my stomach. “I assure you, I’ve heard you loud and clear.”

“Love happens in all kinds of ways. Fast. Slow. In bits and pieces, or immediate. Filled with lust, one-sided longing, a snap realization never noticed before. Deeply. Thoroughly. Love is a whisper we didn’t hear or a sound that drums in our ears and drowns out everything else.”

“Oh, Goldfinch, if you think that was crass, then you don’t want to know the things I’m thinking, because they’re positively filthy.”

“It’s fucking torture to have you stand there and tell me you want me, and not be able to do anything about it. But I’m a patient male, and as soon as I’m able, I’m going to touch and taste every inch of you. I’m going to have you writhing and begging, and I’ll give you every bit of pleasure I can wring from your delectable body,” he murmurs in a wicked promise. “The moment that sun dips, Goldfinch, you’re mine.”

There comes a point in your life when you have to choose between having regrets and the possibility of making mistakes.