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

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.

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.

His lips covered hers as he laid the gauze on her leg. Fiery pain shot through her flesh as his lips swallowed her cry, then replaced it with such amazing sensation she wanted to whimper in return. He licked her lips. He didn’t steal her kiss. He didn’t take it. He cajoled it from her.

I am not in the least forbidden. You may sample me all you choose.

It can happen like that. It can build slowly. It can come like a gentle rainfall, or it can slam into you like a tsunami. You are my tsunami, love.

Getting a woman's body and getting her heart are two different things. And gaining her trust is another problem entirely.