He used to talk to me about Russia all the time and had sworn up and down that I'd love it here. "To you, it'd be like a fairy tale," he'd told me. "Sorry, comrade. Borg and out-of-date music aren't part of any happy ending I've ever imagined." "Borscht, not borg. And I've seen your appetite. If you were hungry enough, you'd eat it." "So starvation's necessary for this fairy tale to work out?
Richelle MeadWhat?" I asked uneasily. "Why are you looking at me like that?" He shook his head, the smile rueful now. "Because sometimes, a person can get so caught up in the details that they miss the whole. It's not just the dress or the hair. It's YOU. You're beautiful. So beautiful, it hurts me.
Richelle MeadHe shook his head. โNo. Because there's no one else out there who understands you like I do.โ I waited for more. โThat's it? You're not going to elaborate on what that means?โ Those green eyes held me. โI don't think I need to.
Richelle MeadBecause it's simple, I love you, and I don't want to keep pretending like I don't. -Rose to Dimitri
Richelle MeadI wanted him. I arched my back, fully aware of how vulnerable that made me and that I was giving him an invitation. He accepted it and laid me back against the table, bringing his body down on top of mine. That crushing kiss of his moved from my mouth to the nape of my neck. He pushed down the edge of my dress and the bra strap underneath, exposing my shoulder and giving his lips more skin to conquer.
Richelle Mead