6
" Can you not forgive him, Ricco? Please, I am begging you, for his sake. . . please forgive him.”
Their eyes locked.
His, agonizing.
Hers, pleading.
“You truly loved him, did you? You loved my grandfather.”
She met his gaze unflinchingly. “I wouldn’t marry a man I do not love.”
“Enough to ask forgiveness for his stead?”
She nodded solemnly. “And more, if need be. I would do anything for him who had done nothing but kindness to me because he deserved it, Ricco. Despite everything he’d done, and because of everything he did for you, your grandfather . . . deserved to be un-hated. "
― Mayumi Cruz , The Billionaire's Widow
11
" Love, as she knew it, did not make a person feel vulnerable and defenseless, or generate confusion, or send butterflies in one's stomach! It didn't make one want to laugh and cry at the same time, or feel annoyed and excited in a flash, or want to inflict pain or care for someone simultaneously. It didn't make one despise oneself for responding to a kiss like that, wanting it to end, and yet feeling such unbearable longing and yearning for it, needing it to go on and on and on. Love, she admonished herself firmly, doesn't make one do or feel those things. "
― Mayumi Cruz
18
" It was just a simple meeting of the eyes. There was nothing to it. She had done so with countless people. And she had stared at his eyes before, back at the cinema. But there was something different at that exact time, in that exact situation, with exactly the same person.
It was like being struck by lightning. Sudden, electric, paralyzing.
And she knew he felt it too. For some inexplicable reason, they both found themselves unable to look away, powerless to deny the pull. Hypnotized by each other’s brown irises, without knowing nor caring who wielded the magic wand of trance which put them into some kind of conscious stupor. While the world and everything in it faded in the background and the noises outside were hushed, Alex was achingly aware of herself. Of how drawn she was to the deep, swirling pools of dark honey staring into her soul, magnetic and mystic at the same time. Of how every nerve and every cell of her body were ablaze, tongues of flame flittering over them, singeing her with a torturous warmth. Of the blaring sound of her pulse pounding heavily beneath the onslaught of his sensual thumb. It was a scintillating torment she didn’t want to end. "
― Mayumi Cruz , It's Not Just Semantics (La Natividad Island, #1)
