Dropping her hand, she turned in his arms. Then, rising up on tiptoe, she cupped his face in her palms and drew him down. Her kiss was innocent, vulnerable, a caress so gentle that it made him her slave between one breath and the next.

Why is it”—she shivered as he kissed the top of her spine, went lower—“that I always end up naked while you remain dressed?” A husky masculine chuckle, his lips moving over her shoulder, his hands on her hips. “Because I'm a smart man.

Take care of my heart won't you, Sophie? It's a little odd having it outside my body-but I'm planning to steal yours to make up for it.

No more dancing with any male but me. No more time to learn who you are before you have to hold that personality against mine. No more freedom to explore your sensuality before I own it.

You can drive.” When he raised an eyebrow, she said, "I've had enough contact with human males to realize you seem to have a congenital inability to function while a female is at the wheel, and I'd rather your full attention be on the case.

It was a white-collar crime.” Illium gave her an odd look. “In the human world, such crimes are lightly punished, though they harm hundreds, leading some to choose death out of despair, while the man who beats a single person is considered the worse criminal.

...his lips were pure temptation, soft, bitable, sensual in a way only a man's mouth could be.