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Ritual Sins Ritual Sins by Anne Stuart
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“You don't believe in God, Rachel. You don't believe in goodness or love
or mercy, do you?"
"I haven't seen enough to form an opinion."
"But you believe in the devil?"
"When I'm sitting in a car with him, yes," she said.”
Anne Stuart, Ritual Sins
“You can find yourself a decent,
honorable man, one to love you, respect you, cherish you. Someone with
morals, with a decent job and a good future. That's what you think you
want, isn't it? Not some white trash from Alabama. Not some ex-con
who's running the scam of a lifetime. You're so good and decent, the very
thought of me disgusts you, doesn't it?" His voice was low and seductive
as he pushed the words at her.
She met his gaze with what she hoped was a fearless one of her own.
"Yes," she said.
"Then tell me, Rachel," he said, letting his hand toy with the loose
neckline of her tunic, "why aren't you out somewhere, fucking your little
gentleman's brains out? Why are you here with me, quivering when I
touch you?”
Anne Stuart, Ritual Sins
“It's going to storm," she said.
"You've been in Alabama for twenty-four hours and you think you can
read the weather?"
"Then why is it so dark?"
"It's going to storm."
She wanted to hit him. "Then I'd appreciate getting to my car before it
hits. I don't like thunderstorms. "
"No, I imagine you don't," he said softly. "That's just something else
you're afraid of. Sex, men, thunderstorms, being poor. Me. Anything else?
"Yeah," she said. "I'm afraid of alligators and poisonous snakes, or
otherwise I wouldn't be here in this hearse with you.”
Anne Stuart, Ritual Sins
“She reached behind her to unfasten her bra, then stopped. “Do you need me to take all my clothes off, or just from the waist down?” “This isn’t a visit to the gynecologist, Rachel. Everything must go.” His voice was lightly mocking.”
Anne Stuart, Ritual Sins