1,081 Quotes by Christine Feehan

Her "family," the ones so gracious and honorable to take in two orphans, were harsh with her for her own good so she wouldn't become the whore her mother had been.

He leaned into her, his mouth against her ear. "Breathe for me, Mariko. Just breathe.

She kept her arm firmly around his waist, fitting under his shoulder when she never would have walked so Intimately with a man. Strangely, she didn't mind. In fact, she liked thinking of him as hers to take care of...

She had more practice than any other rider that she knew of in hiding how she felt, yet Ricco read her.

He caught her hand, curling his fingers around hers and bringing it to his chest as he leaned into her. "I'm sorry for being a dick. Sometimes I just am, but I'll watch it. Giovanni snorted his derision. "Sometimes? Don't believe a fucking thing he says, Mariko. It's 'all' the time.

She had the strangest need, almost a compulsion, to shield Ricco from his brother's scrutiny. From all of them. She sensed he detested appearing weak in front of anyone, but especially his family.

As she'd grown, she moved through life in silence, hoping not to be noticed, afraid of drawing attention to herself.

Suddenly she could barely breathe. She was always calm, yet now, in the face of the knowledge that she might never find her brother, never be able to tell him that she cared, she couldn't breathe. Couldn't find a way to catch her breath.

Stay with me, Mariko. I want you to stay." That's all Ricco had said. In that voice. The one that whispered over her skin and seeped into her pores to drown her in him. In his will. He left it to her--her choice. Bit then, she was coming to understand, with Ricco Ferraro, she had very little will of her own.