It was that surrender he needed. That complete feminine submission to every stroke, every caress, ever naughty act. Only in that submission would the subconscious trust, the bond he needed between them, come. He wanted her to trust, to know, to instinctively understand that he was more than just her lover; he was her other half. The one she told her secrets to. The one, she made secrets with.
Lora LeighWhat would I have done if my coya had been captured or killed? My mate, Sharone. The other half of everything I am. What would I have done?
Lora LeighHe was tall, one of the tallest men she had ever seen. Dressed in jeans, boots and a cotton shirt. Thick black hair grew rakishly long, falling over the collar of his shirt. Intense brown eyes, almost the color of amber, surveyed the diner slowly before coming back to her. Electricity sizzled in the air then, as though invisible currents connected them, forcing her to recognize him on a primitive level. Not that she wouldn’t take notice anyway. He was power, strength, and so incredibly male that her breath caught at the sight of him.
Lora LeighYes, he would be gone, but she knew now what it meant to love. She might not know what it meant to be loved, but loving was almost as good.
Lora LeighThere are much better ways to handle the delicate male ego. With a two-by-four? Only as a last resort and never in public.
Lora LeighYou have five minutes to call someone, anyone, I don't care who, and order me the finest blend of coffee that rat hole town has, and a dozen beers. If it's not sitting on this table..." a slender finger pointed furiously at the table in question,"... in one hour, you die" - Faith telling Jacob
Lora Leigh