Every good girl loved a bad boy. It was a fact of life, a quirk of nature. Opposites attract, and the badder the boy, the more attractive he was to that good girl who couldn't help but be drawn to him.

He should have no further trouble from her, he thought in satisfaction. Surely by now she knew his dominance over her. She would submit as easily in all matters as she had in this one. He frowned then. She had submitted, hadn´t she?

Do you know, every time I've seen you you've been like the Grim Reaper of goodwill and cheer. You should find another profession.

What 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?

Because sometimes, a man could do nothing about where he came from, he could only control where he went

Her eyes opened then. They were drowsy, slumberous, staring up at him with a hunger that was impossible to miss. “I felt you,” she whispered, a smile tilting her moist lips. “Watching me. Should I feel you watching me?” Was she asleep or awake? “Of course.” He found the growl building in his throat. “Every time I look at you, baby, I touch you.

It's easier to ask forgiveness than to beg for permission.