9
" It was impossible to imagine a time when [Fielding's] dry wit wouldn't be around to make me laugh, or to imagine someone else being the one to see the joy on his face when he learned something new. I thought about all of that, and then I thought about never holding him again, never kissing him again, never again experiencing Fielding pushy and demanding and needing me so bad he trembled with it.
And man, it fucking hurt.
"Okay," I said out loud, swallowing hard. "Okay, I give. Uncle."
It was time to admit defeat, to lay down my cards, and concede the game.
For the first time in my life, I was in love. I was in love with a guy. I was in love with Fielding Monroe. "
― Eli Easton , Blame It on the Mistletoe (Blame It on the Mistletoe, #1)
12
" The arousal I'd felt at the gym returned, this time dressed in Kevlar, and it was kicking my ass. A slow-rolling, hot-as-sin lust swept through my body, setting every cell on fire. Fielding's mouth was sweet and minty and warm, and the suction was just right. He was a quick study, mirroring my actions, alternating between sucking gently at my mouth and suggestively lathing with his tongue. But there was an innocence in him, a surprised and eager passion that trembled through his body, unable to be contained. I could feel how much it was affecting him, and it made me crazy. "
― Eli Easton , Blame It on the Mistletoe (Blame It on the Mistletoe, #1)