When his lips sealed to hers, the press of it was astonishing in its gentility. His neck corded with tension, his shoulders bunched, and his grip tightened. But his mouth. Oh, his mouth. It sampled her with a series of light strokes, restraining his ardent passion with well-practiced skill… An inarticulate sound vibrated from somewhere deep within him, quickening her heart and rushing the blood through her veins with an injection of heat.

You must stop doing that,” she commanded. “It’s--- It’s---” “Delicious?” he supplied helpfully.

Oh, she’d let justice take its course… Because justice, as everyone knew, was a woman.

If we see each other again, Mercy Goode…” he warned in a voice made of sex and honey. “Be ready for me to taste the rest of you.

What I am is growing tired of your company,” she snapped. “Might I remind you that you were the one who followed me here?

Oblivion merged into sensation and colors fused into high-relief and time lost all meaning. Perhaps the future was a memory. Or the past was a lie. Or there was only this. This moment. This joy. This act. This emotion. This woman.

Raphael Sauvageau was pure, unmitigated male. His voice deep. His manner predatory. His gaze unapologetically lustful… He could seduce a woman without saying a word. Make her aware of all the deep, empty places she ignored.

There are only two indisputable facts in this world: One, that the sun will set in the west. And two, that I'll come for you. Always.

She glared at him as if she could bore through his middle with the blue fire in her eyes, ‘you kissed me, you impolite blackguard! Without my permission, I might add.” “Ah, for that I would ask your forgiveness, Miss Goode…” His mouth softened and curled up at the memory. “If you had no kissed me back.