Laini

“I’m a woman.  Sandwich making is a skill we’re born with.  If you tell anyone I said that, you’ll be making your own sandwiches for the next ten years.  Got it?”
“Your secret is safe with me baby.”
― Jo Willow, Designing Woman

“Baby is a term of endearment.  It’s what you called me when you loved me.  Every time you say it now, it rips another piece of my heart out and quite frankly, I don’t have very many pieces left.”
“I still love you Melody.”
My head jerked up and I burned his baby blues with my own.
“So you say, but it didn’t stop you from walking out, did it?  Pardon me for saying this, but I thought that you’d learned how to love someone from watching your parents.  I can’t imagine either of them walking out on the other for any reason.  Those two are rock solid Anton.”
― Jo Willow, Designing Woman

“Why didn’t you let Chase take it off?”
His voice was rough with emotion and I had to swallow the lump of raw emotion before I answered.
“It meant a lot to you that I keep it on, so I did.”
“It meant nothing to me once I walked out that door.”
“Is that so?  If it meant so little, then why did you race to my rescue today?”
― Jo Willow, Designing Woman

“You’ve got your hands full with Ayla.  The clock is ticking Pierce.  You’re the only one that can’t hear it yet.”
“I’ve got perfect hearing.”
Pierce looked over at his companion who was watching him and wondering what he’d say next.  He’d stopped just short of insulting her on several occasions this evening and she wondered when he’d cross the line.  He was a Sloan and it was coming, she could feel it.
 “Tell them Ayla.  Tell them how things are between us.  They obviously don’t believe me.”
God only knows what possessed her.
She bowed in deference to Pierce and then smiled serenely at Deacon and Dorothy.
“Gladly Pierce.”
She winked at Dorothy before saying, “I wouldn’t marry a Sloan if every other man on the planet had the last name of Marconi.”
Dorothy erupted in a giggling fit and Deacon fought to stay in control of his own laughter.
Pierce was the only one at the table that found no humor in her remark.  His eyes darkened to a violet shade of blue and he tilted his head slightly towards her.  Ayla knew that look and knew it well.  Her skin grew hot and her hands itched to touch him.  She wouldn’t though.  Not unless he gave her permission.  Even though he’d never caused her one second of pain, he was still Dominant to her Submissive.  He might be her big Teddy Bear, but she still called him Sir.”
― Jo Willow, Designing Woman