His thumb went back and forth over the satin, as if he were rubbing her hip as he had when they'd been together, and he moved his leg over so that it was on top of the skirting. It wasn't the same, though. There was no body underneath, and the fabric smelled like lemons, not her skin. And he was, after all, alone in this room that was not theirs. "God, I miss you," he said in a voice that cracked. "Every night. Every day.
J.R. WardNo, thanks.” Rhage laughed. “I’m a good little sewer, as you know firsthand. Now who’s your friend?” “Beth Randall, this is Rhage. An associate of mine. Rhage, this is Beth, and she doesn’t do movie stars, got it?” “Loud and clear.” Rhage leaned to one side, trying to see around Wrath. “Nice to meet you, Beth.” “Are you sure you don’t want to go to a hospital?” she said weakly. “Nah. This one’s just messy. When you can use your large intestine as a belt loop, that’s when you hit the pros.
J.R. WardYou know,” he said, “this is why I love you so much.” Her tone was heartbreakingly warm. “What do you mean?” You don’t ask me to go inside because it’s cold. You just want to make it easier for me to be where I want to stand.
J.R. WardVishous: "...we both would slaughter anything that so much as startled you." Jane: "I'm scared of mice and spiders. But you don't need to use that gun on your hip to blow a hole in a wall if I ran into one, okay? Havaheart traps and rolled newspapers work just as well. Plus, you don't need a Sheetrock patch and plaster job afterward. I'm just saying.
J.R. Ward