His lips hovered over hers. “No,” he snarled. Madison wasn’t sure to whom he was talking, but then his mouth was crushing hers, and her world became him—the touch and feel of his lips pressing down, forcing hers to respond. It wasn’t a gentle kiss or a sweet exploration. It was angry and raw, breathtaking and soul burning. Right now, she didn’t want gentle. She wanted hard and fast, him and her, on the floor, even the bear rug, both of them naked and sweating.

Time was a funny and fickle thing. Sometimes there was never enough of it, and other times it stretched out endlessly.

My dream had been shattered, but then re-created, fashioned into something with more meaning and becoming more precious.

You’re a good guy, Cam.” “No, I’m not.” He exhaled deeply and his breath was warm against my cheek. “I’m only good with you.

He raised his brows. "You're drunk." "Am not!" He gave me a bland look. "A drunk's famous last words before they fall flat on their face.

I love you, Katy. Always have. Always will

Are you sure?" A brow arched up. "Because I'm here at your service and taking your jeans off is something I feel I'd be exceptionally wonderful at.