For the fiftieth time tonight, Dante’s breath clean left his body. The man was a god. Dante spread his hands over his chest, shaping the contours, enjoying the possessive blast that heated his gut.“Perfetto.”Cade’s eyes widened. “Italian? You’re killing me.

Dante inhaled, his lungs full of Cade, his heart beating to a jerky rhythm. He didn’t usually act like this around guys who attracted him. He didn’t usually lose all reason.Walk away. Walk away now.

This chest. These muscles. All this hair!” And then he rubbed his cheek against Dante’s pec like a fucking kitten. He drew back. “Sorry, but that’s been on my list.

So far, it’s been me getting naked, Moretti. When do I get the pleasure of viewing all that hot Italian muscle?” He pulled at the hem of Dante’s Yankees tee. “No suit today.”“I don’t sleep in it, you know.”“What do you sleep in?”“Tonight? You.

Levi Hunt was six feet three of Special Forces badassery, his body a honed weapon, his gaze sharp enough to fell the enemy or a weak-willed woman at fifty paces. Objectively, she'd recognized this when she first met him. He had a gruff, dangerous quality that would appeal to many.She had never considered herself one of them.

A lot of people would jump at the chance to be seen with me, y'know."Her expression was pitying. "Poor Superglutes, aren't you getting enough attention from your millions of Instagram followers? Is it lonely being adored by all your fans?""Very! All they see is this amazing body and gorgeous hair and beautiful cheekbones. Sure, I'm hilarious and great in bed, but do they appreciate it? Do you appreciate it?

An extra hour on the treadmill tomorrow," he said, patting his naked abs.She was pouring wine and missed the glass.He grinned."Can it," she grated."They're just abs, Elle-oh-Elle, and you claim to be so above it all."She pushed a glass his way. "No one likes a braggart, Kershaw.

I can be mad at you for several reasons. I am woman. I contain multitudes.

Straight talk is a virtue. Dirty talk is a goddamn blessing.