3
" Something tells me that you sneak bars up to your room a lot. In fact, you probably have a whole little shoebox dedicated to them.”
“Wrong.”
“I don’t think I am. Tell the truth, Emery. Do you hoard chocolate bars?”
“Eww! Hoarding makes it sound gross. It’s not like I collect them or anything. I just keep a few on hand when the craving hits.”
“And how often is that?”
He’s pushing me. It’s evident by the grin on his face, but there’s something about the way his eyes are lighting up, the first time they’ve done it since he got here today, that makes me wanna answer him just to keep it going.
I like the way he is right now. It’s much better than the tense and angry way he was before.
“Every single day.” I admit and along with the smile comes a thick rumble of laughter.
“So, you admit you have a problem. That’s the first step. Now that you’ve admitted it, I can properly treat you.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?”
“You solemnly swear never to take home and hide another chocolate bar, and I’ll make sure that every day, you have your daily dose of it. "
― Melyssa Winchester , The Space In Between
4
" A weathered black and silver Dodge pickup towing a small motorboat pulled up behind us, and Alex circled back to greet the driver. I couldn’t see who sat behind the crusted and dirty windshield, but Alex stood at the driver’s window and pointed down the block where the boulevard disappeared into floodwater.
The truck pulled ahead, maneuvered a deft U-turn, and backed toward the water. Alex motioned for me to follow. By the time I lurched my way to the truck, he and the pickup driver were sliding the boat down the trailer ramp. Sweat trickled down my neck, and if I hadn’t been afraid of being poisoned by toxic sludge, I’d have made like a pig and wallowed in the mud to cool off.
I kicked at a fire hydrant, trying to jolt some of the heaviest sludge off my boots, and heard a soft laugh behind me. With a final kick that sent a spray of brown gunk flying, I turned to see what was so funny. I needed a laugh.
A man leaned against the side of the pickup with his arms crossed. He was a few inches shorter than Alex, maybe just shy of six feet, with sun-streaked blond hair that reached his collar and a sleeveless blue T-shirt and khaki shorts. His tanned legs between the bottom of the shorts and the top of sturdy black shrimp boots were scored with scars, bad ones, as if whatever made them meant to do serious damage.
He’d been grinning when I turned around, flashing a heart-stopping set of dimples, but when he saw my eyes linger on his legs, the grin eased into something more wary. "
― Suzanne Johnson , Royal Street (Sentinels of New Orleans, #1)
5
" He poured a splash of liquid into a second cup. “Come in and warm yerself by the fire.”
Ariana walked deeper into the room, toward the glow of the hearth. It’s heat enveloped her skin and eased away the chill with such expediency, she almost sighed.
Connor appeared beside her with a metal cup extended. “I canna sleep often myself.”
She closed her fingers around the cool surface and glanced at the dark liquid within. A sharp scent hit her nostrils.
“Whisky,” Connor said.
He was perfection in the firelight. Shadows etched his jaw while the light softened his face, his lips. The powerful lines of his chest were visible at the neck of his leine, as well as a dark peppering of small curling black hairs.
“Whisky,” Ariana said with a forced stare at the cup instead of him. “Of course. I drink this all the time.”
“Aye, I knew that about ye. When I first saw ye, I thought, ‘Now there’s a lass who can handle her whisky.’” Connor winked at her with disarming playfulness. “It’ll do ye some good. Take off the chill and settle yer thoughts.”
“Why do you assume my thoughts are unsettled?” she asked.
He took a swallow from his cup. “Because sleep comes easily to those without weight on their minds.”
Ariana took a careful sip from her own cup, the way she’d seen men at the card tables drink. The liquid burned like sin down her throat and caught in her chest.
She gritted her teeth and swallowed hard several times to keep from sputtering.
Though she’d hoped to keep her reaction discreet, the grin on Connor’s face told her he saw through her guise.
“It’s good.” Her voice came out in a croak and Connor laughed. It was a warm, rich sound and she found it terribly pleasing.
His eyes crinkled. “Now that we’ve discovered yer love of whisky, why dinna ye tell me what’s got yer thoughts heavy? "
― Madeline Martin , Highland Spy (The Mercenary Maidens, #1)
8
" Do it, Octavian” She ghosted the tips of her fingers along the hem of his shirt. “Touch me.”
He growled low in his throat, his forehead dropping another inch toward her shoulder, his hair tickling the side of her face. “Be my angel, Riley, not my siren. Don’t tempt me.”
Moistening her lips with a sweep of her tongue, Riley glided her fingers over his belt, tracing the strip of leather to the silver buckle in the center. She felt rather than heard his deep inhalation and the tremor that raked his powerful body. Driven by his surrender, she used two fingers to walk over the square carvings etched into his abdomen, biting her lip to stop the grin that pulled when he groaned.
“I want to be both for you, Octavian,” she whispered, letting her lips brush the curve of his shoulder. "
― Airicka Phoenix , Octavian's Undoing (Sons of Judgment, #1)
10
" She brought her elbow
backward and connected with Rand’s ribs. He swore and released her.
She whirled on him. “That’s for being so arrogant!”
Rand advanced on her, and the grin on his face wasn’t at all reassuring. She took one step
back, then turned to sprint into the bathroom, when a pair of hands caught her and slung her over
a hard muscled shoulder.
“Put me down right now!” She screamed as she pummeled his back. “You are the most
annoying, selfish, barbaric, horny man I know, Rand Miller!”
He set her back on her feet inside the bathroom, then cupped her chin in his palm. “You
are the most gorgeous, intelligent, feisty woman I know, Lucy Flemming.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes. What was he up to now? “Flattery won’t help you out of this
one.”
“It’s not flattery. It’s the truth,” he murmured as he leaned close to her ear. “And, baby?”
“Yes?” she answered, her voice nearly inaudible as his nearness began to override her
anger.
“I’d better be the only horny man you know. "
― Anne Rainey , Reckless Exposure (Three Kinds of Wicked, #3)
12
" I circled the site before I came in. If there's anyone within five kilometers, I'll eat my quiver." Halt regarded him, eyebrow arched once more. " Anyone?" " Anyone other than Crowley," Will amended, making a dismissive gesture. " I saw him watching me from that hide he always uses about two kilometers out. I assumed he'd be back in here by now." Halt cleared his throat loudly. " Oh, you saw him, did you?" he said. " I imagine he'll be overjoyed to hear that." Secretly, he was pleased with his former pupil. In spite of his curiosity and obvious excitement, he hadn't forgotten to take the precautions that had been drilled into him. THat augured well for what lay ahead, Halt thought, a sudden grimness settling onto his manner. Will didn't notice the momentary change of mood. He was loosening Tugsaddle girth. As he spoke, his voice was muffled against the horses's flank. " he's becoming too much a creature of habit," he said. " he's used that hide for the last three Gatherings. It's time he tried something new. Everyone must be onto it by now." Rangers constantly competed with each other to see before being seen and each year's Gathering was a time of heightened competition. Halt nodded thoughtfully. Crowley had constructed teh virtually invisible observation post some four years previously. Alone among the younger Rangers, Will had tumbled to it after one year. Halt had never mentioned to him that he was the only one who knew of Crowley's hide. The concealed post was the Ranger Commandant's pride and joy. " Well, perhaps not everyone," he said. Will emerged from behind his horse, grinning at the thought of the head of the Ranger Corps thinking he had remained hidden from sight as he watched Will's approach. " All the same, perhaps he's getting a bit long in the tooth to be skulking around hiding in the bushes, don't you think?" he said cheerfully. Halt considered the question for a moment." Long in the tooth? Well, that's one opinion. Mind you, his silent movement skills are still as good as ever," he said meaningfully. The grin on Will's face slowly faded. He resisted the temptation to look over his shoulder. " He's standing behind me, isn't he?" he asked Halt. THe older Ranger nodded. " He's standing behind me, isn't he?" Will continued and Halt nodded once more." Is he...close enough to have heard what I said?" Will finally managed to ask, fearin teh worst. This time, Halt didn't have to answer. " Oh, good grief no," came a familiar voice from behind him. " he's so old and decrepit these days he's as deaf as a post." Will's shoulders sagged and he turned to see the sandy-haired Commandant standing a few meters away. The younger man's eyes dropped. " Hullo, Crowley," he said, then mumbled, " Ahhh...I'm sorry about that." Crowley glared at teh young Ranger for a few more seconds, then he couldn't help teh grin breaking out on his face. " No harm done," he said, adding with a small note of triumph, " It's not often these days I amange to get the better of one of you young ones." Secretly, he was impressed at teh news that Will had spotted his hiding place. Only the sarpest eyes could have picked it. Crowley had been in the business of seeing without being seen for thirty years or more, and despite what Will believed, he was still an absolute master of camouflage and unseen movement. "
