More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Her wish was more along the lines of, I hope that Lord Westcliff will meet a woman who will bring him to his knees.
Marcus shook his head helplessly. “I’m sorry,” he rasped, even as he knew what he was about to do. “My God. Sorry—” His mouth clamped over hers, and he began to kiss her as if his life depended on it.
“My lord,” she whispered, “have you gone mad?” “Yes. Yes.” A velvety drag of his lips back to her mouth . . . another deeply marauding kiss. “Give me your mouth . . . your tongue . . . yes. Yes. So sweet . . . sweet . . .”
“You believe yourself to be in love with her.” “No,” Hunt countered in a relaxed manner, “I am in love with her.”
“Do excuse me,” Annabelle murmured, standing. She went to her husband, who took her hand as soon as she reached him, and lifted it to press a kiss into her palm. Staring at her upturned face, he retained possession of her hand, and his head inclined toward hers.
still love them
“the next time you face a room full of strangers . . . you might tell yourself that some of them are just friends waiting to be found.”
“Good girl,” he murmured, and gathered her writhing body into a half-sitting position.
I cannot wait for his book lol
Marcus’s existence was shaped by relentless expectations and duties—and the last thing he needed was distraction. Particularly in the form of a rebellious girl.
But that did not change the fact that Marcus wanted Lillian Bowman more than any other woman he had ever known.
“I don’t want to see you hurt.” “Has it ever occurred to you, you arrogant idiot, that the person most likely to hurt me might be you?”
As he caught a whiff of her breath, he shook his head and murmured, “Little one . . . what have you been drinking?”
little one!!
Lillian, my angel . . . how much was in the bottle when you started?”
ahhh my angel!!
God in heaven, he was tired of fighting his desire for her. It was exhausting to struggle against something so overwhelming. Like trying not to breathe.
He could no longer deny that for the rest of his life, he would measure every other woman against her, and find them all lacking.
“My dearest Lillian . . . if I had the gift of poetry, I would shower you with sonnets. But words have always been difficult for me when my feelings are strongest. The truth is, I need you. I’ve needed you for years. If you won’t marry me for the sake of your own honor, do it for the sake of everyone who would have to tolerate me otherwise. Marry me because someone has to help me to laugh at myself. And teach me how to whistle. Marry me, Lillian . . . because I have the most irresistible fascination for your ears.”
“Every friendship has its scars. And I believe if St. Vincent had understood the strength of my feelings for the woman, he wouldn’t have pursued her. In this case, however, I couldn’t allow the past to repeat itself. You’re too . . . important . . . to me.”
“You didn’t so much as glance in my direction even once during supper.” “I was afraid to.” “Why?” “Because I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be able to keep from making you into my next course.”
SIR
“I could never be afraid of you.” A slow smile spread across his face, and he brought her against him for a brief, rib-crushing hug. “Perhaps not, my bold, brave girl. But the first time we make love, it will cause you pain.”
“Softly, now,” he whispered. “Easy. My God, how beautiful you are. Lillian . . . I’ll do anything for you. I’ll agree to whatever you want. Anything that’s in my power to give. Just put my mind at ease, and say you’ll be my wife.”
“Lillian,” he whispered, “my angel, my love . . . does it ache right here?” One of his fingers slid inside her. “This sweet, empty place . . . do you want me to fill it?”
this MANNNN
“I couldn’t have borne it,” he admitted, “seeing you married to anyone but me.”
“You’re a delight to me, Lillian Bowman,” he whispered. “Everything about you.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Lillian, my sweet love . . . you’re safe now. I’ll never let anything happen to you again. I swear it on my life. You’re safe.”
“I love you, Marcus.” Taking the napkin from him, Lillian blew her nose noisily and continued to weep as she spoke. “I love you. I don’t mind if I’m the first one to say it, nor even if I’m the only one. I just want you to know how very much—” “I love you too,” he said huskily. “I love you too. Lillian . . . Please don’t cry. It’s killing me. Don’t.”
