You are mine,” he rasped. “Only ever mine. I accept all that you are, and we can be together.

Did you dream of me?" he asked. "Yes," she admitted grudgingly. She had. She'd dreamed of his hands caressing her, of his mouth devouring her. His lush lips inched into a surprised but pleased smile. "You were naked," she told him. His grin spread; his eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "And tied up..." He arched his eye brows in smug expectation. "I did not know the idea of bondage would please you." "Oh, I love the idea of typing you up." She paused dramatically. "Just like in my dream, you'll be secured to an ant-hill and the little things will eat you alive.

When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?” (…) A sigh of longing. “To be honest, I wanted to be ruler of the entire world. Or the ruler’s trophy wife.

You know, you’re pretty when you smile,” she said, patting the side of his cheek. “Fierce, woman. I am fierce.” “If you say so.

Fried twinkies? Paris nodded. Only once, I've never forgotten the experience. It's like heaven in your mouth, man.

Once I learned, I went online and ordered every romance novel I could find. They're fairy tales for grown-ups.

Hate is too mild of a word. But it's nothing personal, I don't think.