Letitia

“I’ll park somewhere dark.” She fisted his T-shirt, not even ashamed of her desperation. “Out of the way—“
”Tempting…so…fucking…tempting.”
He gently peeled her hand away, slammed the door, and got in the driver’s side. Then he turned to her, the harsh planes of his face in the shadows creating a savage expression the stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth.
”I need you in a bed tonight, Jillian. I need more than a fuck. I need to make love to you until neither one of us can move, because after tonight, I don’t want there to be even the slightest doubt that you’re mine.”
― Larissa Ione, Rogue Rider

“Nick? Have you ever…”

”No.” He lifted his head again, studied me. “I’ve thought about it, but it never seemed right.”

The idea of him making love to anyone else sent a shaft of pain straight through my middle. “You better wait on me, damn it.”

”I don’t think I have much choice.” He brushed my hair back. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Alix, the only one I’ll ever want. That’s a promise.”
― Katherine Allred, The Sweet Gum Tree

“I don’t believe in ghosts and neither should you, Kingsley.”
”Why not? I’ve been in love with a ghost for thirty years.”
Kingsley strolled over to the armchair and sat on the ottoman between the other man’s knees. Soren narrowed his eyes at him.
“The body’s not even cold yet. Eleanor’s been gone one day and you’re already trying to get me into bed again?”
”Again?” Kingsley laughed and rolled his eyes. “Always. Are you surprised?”
Soren shrugged. “Not really.”
― Tiffany Reisz, The Prince

“Which didn't explain why Brant remained outside with Elizabeth, even when he started to suffer from heatstroke. Or maybe heatstroke was only the excuse he used for what happened next. With one eye pinned on Elizabeth, he stripped off his shirt, something he rarely did, and proceeded to perform feats of strength. He moved large rocks for no good reason, grunting as if he were leg-pressing a good five hundred pounds. He welded hedge clippers like Edward Scissorhands. And hoed like a lumberjack bent on clearing the Sierras.

It was heatstroke. It had to be. There was no other way to explain a thirty-eight-year-old man flexing and posing for a woman like some goddamned body builder in a competition.

And the worst part about it was she didn't even pay him the slightest bit of attention.”
― Katie Lane, Trouble in Texas