It’s your hero complex, isn’t it? You should see someone about that.” “Right after I get my head examined.

Her biggest fear was that Flynn would walk away before she could even start to worry about him not coming home.

How good would Flynn be in bed – a real bed, with crisp, clean sheets? She’d seen and handled enough of his body to create a solid mental picture of him naked. Very solid. Honed, strong, with a dusting of blond hair on his tanned chest and maybe a few tattoos. Long muscular legs, a sculpted butt, a narrow waist sliding into a broad back that would undulate under her fingers as he moved against her.

He shushed her, laughing. “I’d like to be that spider, if that woman was you.

The kiss wasn’t a buildup to something else; it wasn’t a promise of more to come – it couldn’t be. Just a sweet, sad acknowledgment that this was something beautiful that could never be.

Read it to me.” “Seriously?” he said quietly. “You want me to read you poetry? Like saving your life ten times wasn’t enough?

You’d better touch me before something happens spontaneously that makes me look embarrassingly desperate.” “Really?” He lowered just close enough for his chest to graze the fabric covering her bra, squeezing a squeak from her throat. “I’d like to watch that. You’re making abstinence sound fun.

I can’t help it if you drive me crazy.” “In bed or out of it?

I don’t believe in happy endings,” Flynn said, spinning Tess and tilting up her chin. “Just happy beginnings.