Untouched Quotes

“You promise to stop if I say so?" she asked doubtfully, even while she lay down.
"I promise. Though never trust anything a man tells you when he's got his head between your legs.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“You love me,” he said slowly, wonderingly. Then with greater certainty, “By God, you love me.” His astonished laugh ended on a choked note as he snatched her hand.

“So much,” she said huskily. Her fingers curled hard around his. “So very, very much.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“He was ready to embrace a radiant new world. She was ready to snap his head off.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“I know my heart, Matthew. I know what I feel won't change." She took a shuddering breath and extended one unsteady hand in his direction. Her voice shook with intensity. "When I tell you I love you, that means I'll love you forever."
What does a man do when his dearest dreams come true?
Matthew stared at her outstretched hand. He'd never imagined this time would come. He wasn't prepared. Her words soaked into his soul, slowly turning the parched desert there into a verdant garden.
"You love me," he said slowly, wonderingly. Then with greater certainty, "By God, you love me." His astonished laugh ended on a choked note as he snatched her hand.
"So much," she said huskily. Her fingers curled hard around his. "So very, very much."
He dragged her back into his arms. "I can't believe it."
"Believe it," she whispered. She raised her hands to frame his face so she could look into his eyes. The blue was so pure that he saw right to her gallant, steadfast soul. "I love you, Matthew. I will always love you."
"And I love you, Grace."
Such simple words to change his life. Yet after tonight, he'd never be the same man again.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“Grace."
He drew out the word so it became a long, deep, guttural growl. A sound as primitive as a lion's roar for its mate. Her skin prickled with animal awareness and the breath caught in her throat. Every drop of moisture evaporated from her mouth. Low in her belly, blood began to beat slow and hard with anticipation.
Her face must have betrayed her unfurling arousal. Or perhaps, like her, he reacted to the sudden charge in the air, as electric as the pause before a lightning strike.
Still without shifting his fierce focus, he set down the box he carried. Then he reached to close the doors and slide the bolt across.
Any doubt as to his purpose fled. A delicious thrill rippled through her. The summerhouse was raised on a platform so the windows opened above eye height. With the doors locked, it was a bower designed for private sin.
Sin was clearly his aim.
Now she looked more closely, she realized it wasn't anger that tightened the skin over the bones of his face. It was incendiary hunger.
She should protest. Question. Demand he tell her why he was here. But overwhelming need kept her silent and pinned to the window seat.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“Furious grief for her sorrow gripped him in claws of steel. She was young, close to his age, yet she'd seen so much unhappiness. He'd give his soul to ease her pain. But his soul, he knew to his regret, held no value for her.
He clenched his fists at his side as he watched her raise her hands to her face. He didn't need to be close to her to know the tears that had threatened during her tale finally overflowed.
Jesus, he hated it when she cried. Every tear ripped at his heart like a blunt butcher's knife.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“I'm the first woman you've bedded. I'm almost the only woman you've seen in eleven years. Anyone would mistake the significance of his feelings. You want to make promises. You're a decent man. But when you resume your rightful position, you'll regret any commitment. You'll regret it even more when you fall in love with the woman fit to stand at your side."
He was genuinely angry now. "Unlike the Earl of Wyndhurst's daughter."
She flinched at his sarcasm then lifted her chin and faced him down. "Unlike the poor widow Grace Paget who was your mistress.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“His back tightened, then he began to move deeply, surely, possessively. She moaned and lifted herself to meet him as the glorious rhythm reigned.
She was so ready, the friction quickly pushed her over the edge. Without warning, her body convulsed on a sunbright peak. For a small eternity, rapture blasted her, turned the air around her incandescent with pleasure.
She tasted the salt of her tears on her lips. Aftershocks still quivered through her. Tenderly, she ran her hands down his lean hips to knead his firm buttocks. Part of her clung to the ecstasy even as the blaze subsided to a gentle glow.
The physical delight hadn't faded. If anything, it was sharper, deeper, more profound. Matured through suffering and loss and deprivation.
She expected him to finish but he wasn't satisfied yet. Implacably, he tilted her hips and continued to ravish her. Shocked, she realized he hadn't found release in that shivering culmination. She'd been too lost in her own pleasure to register his responses.
Before her last climax subsided, another more shattering crises ripped through her. She raised her hand to her mouth and bit down hard to muffle a scream. Uncontrollable ecstasy gripped her in claws of flame. It was as though the dragons on the doors had breathed their fire into her lover.
Still he didn't relent. Almost roughly, he reached down to stroke the swollen folds between her legs and this time she did scream. She arched up to kiss him using teeth and tongue. Her touch held no tenderness. Although in her heart, she felt an endless lake of tenderness for this man she loved so dearly.
Another wave hit her and she shuddered, blind with the violent onslaught of sensation. Time itself was suspended as she lost herself in ultimate pleasure.
Matthew groaned from deep in his throat as he at last gave himself up. While liquid heat spilled into her womb, she clutched his shaking body.
Slowly, inevitably, she made the dazzling descent from heaven. She closed her eyes and let pleasure ebb through velvety, electric darkness. He lay on top of her, heavy, beloved, welcome.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“For a delicious second, her passage resisted his intrusion. She was slick with arousal but it had been over a year since she'd taken a man into her body and her intimate muscles defied the incursion. He pushed again with a confidence that took her breath away, flexed his hips, and settled into her full length.
She gasped at the joining, so much richer and more intense than her vivid lonely dreams. He groaned her name and buried his head in her shoulder.
Her body took time to adjust to his size and weight after so long without him. He stretched her inner passage and her muscles clenched around him.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“She'd piled her hair high, leaving silky tendrils to tease bare shoulders. How he longed to festoon that slender neck with cascades of rubies. Rubies, diamonds, pearls, emeralds. Never sapphires. Not even the finest sapphires could rival the beauty of her eyes.
He had no jewels to offer, only his longing, loving heart.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“Matthew emerged from sleep slowly, luxuriously. It must be nearly noon. He swam up from the depths of a calm warm sea. The glittering sea of the far south that he'd read about. A blue sea under a glorious sun. A sea full of pearls and exotic creatures and soft silky water.
And mermaids.
Indubitably there were mermaids in this sea.
His particular mermaid slept naked in his arms.
When he was inside her, she undulated in endless waves like a sea of pleasure.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“She clenched into climax, clutching at him, imperiously demanding he stay inside her. Still he rode her. Taking her higher into blinding pleasure. The blazing rapture sent her reeling. At the peak, she called out his name.
This time when her passage gripped him, she held on until he joined the glorious conflagration. She milked him until he was spent. Even then quivers of ecstasy shook her.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“She squirmed with delight, making him groan. Her wriggling must test him. Some devil made her move again.
"Jesus, Grace," he gritted out. "You try my limits."
"I hope so," she purred. He felt so wonderful inside her. As if he supplied part of her that she only realized now she'd lacked. She bent her knees and tilted her hips so he went deeper. She ran her hands down the tense muscles of his back. He flexed under her touch.
"That felt good," she said breathlessly. "Do it again."
"If I start, I won't stop." his voice was rough.
"Start." She shifted again and felt him shudder.
"Grace," he grated out. He withdrew, then plunged into her. Her nails sank into his back and her womb clenched in welcome.
With deliberate slowness, he set the familiar rhythm.
Except none of this was familiar. Every time he settled in her body, he forged an emotional connection that nothing could sever.
On and on he went. Possession. Release. Possession. Release. Every thrust another link in the chain that bound her to him.
Eventually his inhuman control fractured and he drove into her faster, more wildly. With every thrust, her excitement built. It echoed how she'd felt when he kissed her between the legs. That had been wonderful, astounding.But this was more powerful.
Because he was with her.
He pounded into her as though he meant to crush her. She didn't care. She never wanted this spiraling feeling to end. The storm swirled her higher and higher.
Ecstasy poised her on a knife edge. She cried out and rose to meet him. He changed the angle of his penetration and went even deeper. The pleasure edged close to pain. She tensed as he pressed hard inside her. Then her womb opened and she took all of him. Her inner muscles convulsed into spasms of delight and she screamed.
Violent rapture flung her against the doors of heaven itself. She was lost in a hot, dark world where nothing existed except Matthew. All she could do was hold him and prayed she survived.
Through the tempest that blasted her, he reached his climax. He groaned and convulsed in her arms. For this moment, he was unequivocally hers and she reveled in the possession.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“He was looking at her. At her...there.
She couldn't mistake the unalloyed yearning on his face as he knelt between her white thighs.
It should disgust her. He should disgust her.
But the idea of him seeing that hidden part of her made her shake with raw excitement.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“He learned what made her shudder, what made her sigh. He became so attuned to her that every touch of teeth or lips or fingers offered pleasure.
She writhed in his arms, tangling her legs with his, fighting for air. He trailed one hand across her stomach to the soft curls that hid her sex.
She made a soft sound of desire and arched up.
He slipped his hand between her legs. The merest brush of his fingers in her moisture and she jerked in response. She was so sleek and hot.
Not being inside her was torture. But it was still too soon. Even while she shivered and quaked with reaction.
He found one particular place that made her cry out. He scraped his teeth over a tight nipple and touched her between the legs again.
Her spine bowed and she bit back a scream. A hot flood drenched his fingers. His nostrils flared as the scent of her arousal rose stronger, sharper.
How could she call herself a cold woman? She was living flame. She flickered and burned and glowed and her heat warmed him to the depths of his soul.
"Oh, Matthew," she said on a long sigh, opening herself wider to his hand. "Matthew..."
He loved the way she no longer hesitated over his name. He loved the way she moved restlessly under his seeking fingers as if she wanted more.
Perhaps at last she wanted him.
He rained kisses down her ribs and over her belly and across her thighs. Then he used his hands to nudge her legs further apart.
The flushed, plump folds of her sex were as beautiful as any flower. More beautiful. As with any flower, his impulse was to bury his face in it, to inhale its essence.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“He burned to taste her everywhere. To find out if all of her was as sweet as that honey trap of a mouth. He shifted her onto her back and licked his way down her neck to the fragrant curve of a shoulder. She quivered and made a muffled sound of excitement. Her legs rubbed against his in a devilishly suggestive dance and her breath emerged in rapid gusts.
Oh, yes, his strategy worked, all right. It might even succeed if he didn't shatter into a million shards of frustration first. He nipped and sucked at her sensitive neck and tasted her shivers of surrender. Only when she gasped and mewed with pleasure did he lift his head.
Flushed with desire, she sprawled against the white sheets. Beautiful. Her eyes were dark and heavy, the pupils so dilated, they almost swallowed the rich blue of her irises.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“The mattress shifted as he turned to look at her. Perhaps the darkness would hide her weeping. A futile hope. She'd long ago noted the acuteness of his senses.
"Oh, my dear." Unerringly, he reached out and captured a tear in his fingers. Another tear, another. She closed her eyes and struggled for composure.
"Crying won't help," she said huskily.
"Sometimes it's all we can do." His voice caressed her like black silk.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“All he noticed was Grace. Her exquisite skin, her slender curves wrapped in silk the color of sky, her lush mouth.
He ripped himself from his distraction and crossed to the sideboard to pour her wine. But invisible wires connected him to her. Wires that tightened infinitesimally with every breath so the effort of keeping his hands off her became more onerous by the second.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as if the air itself offered sustenance. The rise and fall of her chest only made him more aware of the beautiful shape of her breasts. They weren't large but on a woman of her extreme slenderness, they seemed miraculously voluptuous. His fingers curled at his sides as if he already tested the weight and shape of her.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“He angled himself so he could see the round smoothness of her forehead and the straight, oddly aristocratic nose. She was beautiful. He'd recognized that immediately.
Recognized and railed against it.
The oval face with its exotically slanted cheekbones reminded him of etchings he'd seen of Italian Madonnas. His uncle had been generous in giving him books to make up for the Grand Tour he'd never undertake.
His gaze fastened on where delicate color returned from her lush mouth. Its fullness belied the impression of purity. That mouth made even such a sorry excuse for a man as Matthew dream of sin.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“She whipped her head around in his direction. Light dazzled her. All she could make out was a tall figure with broad shoulders.
But she heard the voice clearly.
A deep voice smooth and rich as the cream she scooped from the new milk on her farm in Yorkshire. That beautiful cultured baritone frightened her more than all Monks and Filey's ribald situations.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“Oh, Matthew," she whispered, moved to tears.
"I called it Grace. I hope you don't mind." For the first time, his manner held a hint of shyness, disconcerting in a man who had just made love to her without hesitation or reticence.
Gently, she curled her hand around what was inside the box and lifted it to the light. "It's your rose."
"No, it's your rose."
A heady fragrance filled the air. With one shaking finger, Grace touched a flawless pink petal. The color was unforgettable. It was the most beautiful rose she'd ever seen. Impossible to credit that those unpromising stalks in his courtyard had produced this exquisite bloom.
"It's perfect," she whispered. "It's a miracle."
He was a miracle. How could she not love the man who conjured this beauty with hands and imagination?
The faint smile broadened. Had he worried that she'd reject his gift? Foolish, darling Matthew. The question was whether the rose was a promise of a future or a token of parting.
"I worked on it whenever I could. This last year has been busy."
An understatement, she knew. The Marquess of Sheene had been a ubiquitous presence in London since his release. Everywhere he went, society feted him as a hero. She'd read of the string of honors he'd received, the friendship with the king, the invitations to join scientific boards and societies.
Echoing her gesture, he reached out to touch the petals. The sensitivity of his fingers on the flower reminded her of his hands on her skin.
"I did most of the basic experiments when I was a prisoner, but I couldn't get it right." He glanced up with an expression that combined pride and diffidence in a breathtakingly attractive mixture. "This is the first bud, Grace. It appeared almost a year to the day after I promised to wait. It seemed a sign."
"And you brought it to me," she said softly, staring at the flower. The anniversary of his release didn't occur for two more days. That date was etched on her longing heart.
Then she noticed something else.
"My glove," she said blankly. With unsteady hands, she reached in and withdrew a light green kidskin glove from a recess carved away from the damp. The buttery leather was crushed and worn from incessant handling. "Have you kept it all this time?"
"Of course." He wasn't smiling anymore and his eyes deepened to a rich, rare gold. Beautiful, unwavering, somber.
"You make me want to cry." Her voice emerged so thickly, she didn't sound like herself.
She laid the box on the bench and tightened her grip on the soft leather until her knuckles whitened. What was he trying to tell her? What did the rose mean? The glove?
Had he carried her glove into his new life like a knight wore his lady's favor into battle? The thought sent choking emotion to her throat.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“I won't write or try to see you. You have twelve months to mourn Josiah and decide what you want. You have your bargain. But never imagine for an instant that this is ended. You and I have unfinished business, Grace."
With focused ruthlessness, he lifted her hand and quickly stripped away the glove. She should protest. This moment would just become a bitter memory to taunt her.
When he bent over her hand, his long hair fell forward to hide his face. He pressed his lips to her bare palm and she couldn't stifle a sigh of pleasure. Impossible not to remember nights when he'd kissed each inch of her. Every cell of her skin remembered his possession. Every cell of her skin longed for him to take her again. But it could never be.
Tears blurred her last image of him as he lifted his head and stepped back with a formal bow. How she loved him. She would never love another.
He turned away and at last strode across to Kermonde. He held himself straight and moved with an unhindered confidence she'd never seen in him before. This was a man ready to embrace his challenges. Embrace and conquer.
Only when Kermonde's carriage left in a clatter of hooves and wild cracks of the whip did she realize he'd taken her glove with him.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“We have to convince Monks and Filey we're lovers. I mean only to sleep here. You have my word you're safe from my advances."
Surprisingly, that full mouth quirked into a wry smile. "So we lie like Tristan and Yseult with a sword between us?"
Hard as it was, hard as he was, he couldn't help smiling at the absurd image. "I find myself currently embarrassed of a sword."
He didn't say that, in the legend, the sword had proven no barrier to passion. He was in enough trouble.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“Mrs. Paget- Grace- had been with him all day and her presence had warmed his soul. But she'd remained withdrawn throughout the meal.
Who could blame her? His story must convince her she'd never escape. Yet he mourned her retreat from brief affinity. For one day, she'd been everything he desired in a companion. Intelligent. Sympathetic. Knowledgeable.
Beautiful.
He couldn't deceive himself that all he wanted was friendship. But friendship, by God, was something. If he could resign himself to captivity, he could resign himself to keeping her at a distance.
One day. Maybe in a thousand years.
Never.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender

“The gold-limned shadow resolved into a gentleman in his middle twenties wearing a loose white shirt and buff breeches. He was more than six feet tall and overly slender for his height, although she didn't mistake his physical strength. He might be lean, but it was sinewy leanness.
He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. Even terrified as she was, she couldn't help measuring each detail of his appearance.
Fine dark hair grew back from his high forehead. A long straight nose. Sharply cut cheekbones, prominent because of his thinness. His eyes remained downcast under his winged dark brows. He looked like one of God's angels humbly awaiting direction from the Deity.
Except no angel would study her prone body with quite that level of curiosity.”
― Anna Campbell, Untouched: A Gothic Romance Where Forbidden Desire Becomes Dangerous Surrender