34 Quotes by Angela Quarles

He dragged his lips up the soft skin of her neck and gently nipped her ear lobe, sipping on the soft flesh. Her hands splayed against his chest. Expecting a shove, his senses careened when her fingers fisted his surcoat. Their ragged breath overloud in the forest, he eased his face away, nose rubbing against her jaw on his retreat, and sought her eyes. Hers darkened and—Lord help him—held no censure, only interest. He stepped back.

This was raw. This was primal. This was real.

There can never be more with him. But tell that to my body. It just up and goes hey there as soon as he gets close

Hunky men in kilts are a myth.

The light played across the planes of his strong hands and forearms, allowing her to note the minuscule shifting of muscles signaling his next move. His shapely fingers moved with practical ease, and he unclasped the belt. The kilt dropped.

Wham. She glommed onto him like white plastic on a Stormtrooper, shamelessly pressing against his body, groping and kissing.

I’m Fiona. This is my sister, Traci. We’re just here for a wee bit of adventure.” Ian liked the sound of that. Acutely aware of Traci watching him while he kept his eyes on her sister, he said, “Well then, ye’ve come to the right place.