Kate Meader

Knowing what she did to him made her feel powerful, just as knowing what he did to her made her feel weak.

Gripping her wrists, he pinned her tight to the vanity. __hat sex as a weapon thing can only get you so far, Tess.__anna bet? ____ not damaged, cowboy. I don__ have hang-ups about my body, I don__ use sex to mask my problems___uch___nd right now, if you don__ touch me in some very hot, very wet places, I might die.

This pride of yours, it__ admirable as all get-out, but there has to come a point in your life where you admit you need a hand. Pain might be necessary, but suffering is optional. Are you going to let me be the fucking man here and help my woman?

But that kiss did more than turn her into a puddle of lust. It terrified her. Not because of how soul-searingly good it was, but because kisses like that don__ just happen. Kisses like that implied history and connection and bone-deep knowledge, and it made her question everything that had existed between them before.

She should pull away, even though she had begged for it with her smart mouth. She should punish him for every crime he__ perpetrated. For being too good-looking, too sexy, too everything. But the kiss was like him__ust too damn good. Warm and brutal, providing answers to questions she never knew she had. He teased with his tongue along the seam of her mouth, seeking that last nudge of acceptance as if it was his God-given right.She parted her lips, and like a predator hinged on her threshold, he took.

You__e going to need more than an average kissing game to get with me, Cross.___othin_ average about that kiss.__he sighed. __on__ beg. It__ so unTexan.

Pucker up, Hollywood. By the time I__ finished with you, the neighbors are gonna need a cigarette.

And then that mouth was speaking Russian, rough, sexy, sweet nothings that drove her wild. Forced out all common sense. His mouth trailed her jaw, delivering little nips and hot licks to her neck.__ella___omething in Russian___ella___ore Russian___ella._ As if one language was inadequate to express how she affected him.

An inappropriate attraction to your friend__ fiancé was grounds for disbarment from the Woman Club. Neither did it make a lick of sense. He was uncouth, uneducated, uncivilized. All of their conversations back then had been unholy bicker fests where they charged from the opposite ends of the spectrum, determined not to meet in the middle but to rip pieces out of each other on the drive by.

Flynn was kissing her again, not to help her forget but to force her to remember. Everything he had meant to her then. Everything he meant to her now. How he always had been, and forever would be, her world.

Falling in love with you was the easiest thing I__e ever done. Falling is easy. Staying that way is hard. But I__e been choosing hard all my life, so why the hell would the life I make with the woman who completes me be any different? I love you like a madman. You__e the air I breathe, my next heartbeat, and I__ never letting go.

She cracked a sexy smile with a side of condescension. __ack, I__ not looking to know you.__o, she wasn__, unless you counted biblically. She was looking for the guy who indiscriminately dated and bedded famous women. A guy whose life could be reduced to adjectives, most of them unflattering. That guy.

You always have my attention. When you're in the room, you're my sun.

Admit you__e jealous, Emma._ __ever,_ she said defiantly. __ust your nipples then. They__e pouting.

Staying level with Tess was going to require fast thinking, which was mighty difficult considering all the blood he needed for said thought processes was now hurtling south.__hat would this job involve?___nly one task. Make. Me. Believe.___hat I__ your fiancé?__ue her smile, sly and sexy. First time she__ let him in on that action, too. __hat you want me more than your next breath.__f she moved forward a couple of inches, his boner would make her believe.

I could just as easily have taken the train.__e shut his eyes, just long enough for a movie of a Tess-induced train riot to screen on the backs of his eyelids. Fists flying, teeth broken, friendships destroyed as men vied to get closer to her lush body barely covered in that incendiary French maid outfit. And now he was turning hard again.

What can I do to get you out of your shirt today, Luke?_ Her voice held a husky, wheeler-dealer tone, the kind of voice for which he was likely to do anything. He imagined that voice whispering in his ear, issuing wicked orders, making him hard as steel.

She squeezed her thighs together, desperate for relief. Aiming for completion without doing something so deliberate as touching herself. Look ma, no hands!