Saxton smelled really good and had a handshake that was firm. "You've grown up a lot." Blay found himself flushing as he took his hand back. "You're just the same." "Am I?" Those pearl eyes flashed. "Is that good or bad?" "Oh...good. I didn't mean---" "So tell me how you've been. Are you mated to some nice female your parents set you up with?" Blay's laugh was sharp and hard. "God, no. There's no one for me.

I cannae believe you let me touch you.” His voice grew hoarse. “I shall remember this for all my nights.” Tears speared into her eyes. Dearest Virgin Scribe, for all her life, she had waited for a moment like this…. “Do not cry.” His thumb went to her cheeks. “Beautiful female of worth, do not cry.

Her perfume or soap or whatever it was reminded him of sandalwood and something else. Oh, right...orgasms.

Fine. If I can't have you, then you do the taking. Have all of me, part of me, a small piece, whatever you want. Just please, have something.

You know, you sound like birds when you do that chuckle thing. It's nice. Over to the left, Vishous put his head in his hands.

Otherwise, three little words would have leaked from his mouth. And undoubtedly doomed him in ways he couldn’t even guess at. Bad time. Bad place. For that kind of thing. Forever.

The guy stroked his goatee. "What do you call twenty guys watching the world series?" "The New York Yankees," Butch replied.