Quotes from Jess Michaels

Audrey tilted her head. "You are an idiot, Evan. An idiot. There, now I have spoken to

For a long time, they leaned against the wall, foreheads pressed together, breathing matched. They were one body, bound by the passion they'd shared. Mariah didn't think she'd felt so close to a lover before. As if he sensed those deeper thoughts, John kissed her cheek with such gentleness that it brought tears to her eyes and withdrew from her.

Until the day I take my last breath, it will be my prerogative to fuss and worry and hope for nothing but the best for you, just as I do for all my children.

In the dying firelight, Benedict's face was relaxed in sleep. He was so handsome, so perfect. She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead and he did not stir with the motion. She smiled, but the expression faded as a strong desire welled up in her. A desire to do something she had never done before. She touched him again, to be certain he was not awake. When he didn't move or react, she leaned closer, her hands shaking. "I love you

But, don't you—" she began, than cut herself off as heat flooded her cheeks. "Want to fill your body with mine and make you scream?

But sometimes our princes are disguised as utter rogues, and we fall into the bedroom before we ever meet in the ballroom.

You aren't having something taken from you. Trust me, I know that feeling and this is not it. You are surrendering something. You fear it, so you'll just let it go. Throw it away like it means nothing when it's obvious it means everything.

Pain isn't a competition. You have a right to the feelings in your heart. I just don't want to see you drown in them.

She would likely live and die alone. She had accepted that fact as best she could. Her escapes were the way she lived with it.

He looked down at her and caught a whiff of the honeysuckle fragrance of her hair. God, how he loved that smell. He'd planted fourteen honeysuckle bushes around his estate in Crestwood five years ago just to have a tiny piece of her there with him.

Good morning," he drawled. She straightened her shoulders with the silent reminder that she had to be as distant as he was. "My lord." He gave her an indulgent smirk. "As much as I like to be referred to as your lord, I think we've gone far beyond those empty platitudes. You have called me Ethan several times." He hesitated and tapped his chin. "Actually you moaned it once. I prefer you call me that while we are alone together.

He was changed, burned, branded, destroyed and rebuilt. And he loved it.

Tears welled in Penelope's eyes, making the blue even darker. Then she reeled back and slapped him hard enough that his cheek stung. That is for what you did to me. Not in the dark, Jeremy. Not as the faceless lover. Not even for today when you made love to me... or perhaps we should call it 'fucking', since there was nothing loving about it, only manipulation. Her voice shook as hard as her hands as she turned on her heel and headed for the door. It's for betraying my friendship.

Miranda, there is nothing I would rather do that fuck you. She flinched at his bluntness and Ethan's frown darkened. Don't recoil from that word. It is exactly what I want. I don't want to make love to you like a gentleman. I want to pound into you. I want to tie you down and make you beg. I want to lick every inch of your body until you're so wet with need that I almost slide out of you on every damned stroke.

Yes, but it is difficult to get what we need when it isn't what we truly want.

Rakes make good husbands. Especially when they fall in love.

Someone who has come through heartache and maintains wit and charm is far more interesting than someone who has been kept on a pedestal all her life.

What else matters but pedigree and rumor, my lord? Those things make the world go around.

Her knees began to shake, not because he was beautiful, which he had always been, but because coming into this room with him here waiting for her…it was like coming home.

I keep it for its sentimental value," he said, his voice harder. "It was the last place we made love before you ended our previous affair.

Don't you know, Vivien? You never have to demand from me. Simply ask for what you desire and I would give you anything." He kissed her. "Anything at all.

He wanted her. Now. He wanted her all night. Every night for a week. A month. Maybe even a year. He sank down in a chair beside the fire and rubbed his eyes. "I'm in trouble," he muttered. And never had he believed a statement more.

Her name is Lysandra Keates, and she arrived uninvited on my doorstep a few days ago. I do not know the particulars of her situation as of yet, but my impression is that she is in dire straits. She has begged me to match her with a man." "I am not looking for a mistress!" Andrew snapped, but he couldn't help a brief, powerful image of the girl in the garden…in his bed, her legs wrapped around him as he drove into her.

This was her last chance to protect herself, her heart. She didn't take it. With a shiver, she released all the tension in her body and gave herself over to him. Her body. Her soul. And her love. Her love for him washed over her just as her orgasm did, sweeping her through a pleasure so powerful that it overwhelmed and threatened to destroy her. And she didn't care. She would rather burn in the fire of her love than to drown without him.