“She felt oddly safe with him, though not safe from him.”

“She felt both relaxed and protected with him, at least from outside forces. Nothing, it seemed, could protect her from him, and tonight she wasn’t even certain she wanted to be. Claimed, and mated. She was his, but was he hers? And if he was, what in hell did they do about it?“I don’t even know what you want,” she said fretfully, beginning to lose herself in rising sensation.“This,” he muttered in a dark, rough tone. “You.Everything.”

“By morning, she was raw and sore, and knew walking would be an effort. By morning, she could barely remember what it had been like to not know his body, not to have felt him inside her and held him in her arms and absorbed the power of his thrusts as he came.By morning, she was his.”

“Just as he’d done to her, she slowly moved up and down, caressing him with her body, drawing out his response. He ground his teeth together, fighting not to come when she was just as determined he would.Frustrated, she wondered why he was holding back—until she heard herself moan, and realized the friction was working on her, too.The battle there in the shower was in close-combat conditions. With the clinging grip of her body she tried to wring a climax from him, locking her legs around him and pumping hard. He slowed her down with that one arm around her hips, grinding her against him and sending her response rocketing.”

“You guys take over while I go put on a shirt."Mrs. Kulavich had edged close enough to hear him. She beamed at him. "Don't bother on myaccount," she said. "Sadie!" Mr. Kulavich said in rebuke."Oh, hush, George! I'm old, not dead!""I'll remind you of that the next time I want to watch the Playboy Channel," he growled.”

“Milla put her hands on his ribs, holding on as he braced his weight on one arm while with his other hand he guided his penis to her and in the same rough motion pushed deep inside.He froze in place, his breath panting between his parted lips as they stared at each other. She couldn’t move; the feel of him inside her was too sharp, almost painful in its intensity. Their gazes met in the mellow lamplight, and she was mesmerized by the tension in his face, the way his steely muscles were locked as if he didn’t dare move. It built and built, that clawing need, and yet she remained poised on the razor’s edge of something she knew she couldn’t control. His chest suddenly heaved on a convulsive breath, and he moved in a long, deep stroke that took him all the way to the hilt.”

“You look like you're about to puke," he observed, pushing his cart forward.With a quick, inner shake she gathered herself and cut him off to take her rightful position as lead cart. "I was trying to imagine you as a kid. It was horrifying.”