Laura Kaye

“Thank God the Power Rangers showed up when they did, or he wouldn’t have been responsible for his actions.”

“Here, let me help." Owen grabbed a slice of toast with butter and jelly and held it up to her mouth.She took a big bite. She looked up and found his eyes blazing, that odd light flickering faintly behind the blue and brown. "What could possibly be turning you on about this situation?”

“Clothes. Too many clothes.""Mmm. Couldn't agree more." Fingers threaded under her panties at both hips and pulled them off. Megan gasped, drew her legs up and closed out of surprise. She pointed, pretending outrage. "You! Not me, you!"His self-satisfied smirk told her he'd known just what she'd meant.-Owen and Megan”

“And now I'm here for you, Megan. I am enchanted, as surely as if you were the goddess and I the mortal."-Owen”

“Good with languages," she murmured. With everything she learned about him, he got more and more interesting. Or more mysterious, depending on how you looked at it. "So, good with languages, shovels, and igloos. Anything else?"The smug look he tossed at her was so wicked it shivered right down her spine. Walked right into that, hadn't she. She shook her head and, looking away to hide her blush, moved her cardboard forward one spot. Without a doubt, he would be good at...other stuff. Jesus.”

“What?"Her breathing stuttered at the thought of tasting the sweet cream off his skin. "Nothing.""No, tell me." He stepped closer.She shook her head. "Why mint and peach?"He quirked a crooked smile. "Mint for fresh breath, peach because it's breakfast. You know, fruit.""I don't think peach ice cream counts as fruit.""What's that right there?" He pointed to the hunks of frozen orange buried in the mounds of ice cream overflowing his bowl."Peach, but--""Nuh uh. No but. It's peach. Case closed." He lifted the bowl and took a big bite.”

“Megan almost pouted at the reappearance of the black T-shirt covering his body, but a chuckle bubbled out at the sight of two bowls, two spoons, and four half gallons of ice cream lined up on the kitchen counter. "What do you want for breakfast?" she deadpanned. His brow furrowed. He looked from her to the ice cream and back. "I thought..."She patted his arm. All solid muscle. "Just teasing. Dig in.”

“Is this a dream?" The words spilled from her mouth.Owen's grip on her hand tightened, that lone dark eye trapped her with its serious intensity. "Waking up across from you is the stuff of which dreams are made. But, no.”

“Hey, Megan?"She peeked one lid open. "Hmm?""Can we have ice cream for breakfast?"Her mouth curved into a grin. She couldn't think of anyone, save maybe Kate, who could draw a smile from her so quickly. But he was just unexpectedly adorable. "Maybe. If you're a good boy." She cringed. Why the hell did she say that? Was she...flirting with him? Restraining a grimace, she chanced a look at him. His dark gaze shifted from playful to scorching. "And what would that entail?"Heat shot through her body, and unfamiliar desire pooled in her belly. Flustered, she kicked off the top cover. "Not asking questions like that, to start. Now go back to sleep. It's too damn early to be awake."She heaved a deep breath to calm her racing heart ."if you say so." Even with his eyes closed, a smile continued to play around his lips.”

“Without the death of winter, there is no rebirth of spring.”

“oh. It's an E.E. Cummings quote: 'It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are”

“Owen scooped up a mound of cereal. "Box said they were magically delicious." He cleared his spoon with a big bite."Well, they're definitely delicious, but only you are both magical and delicious." She leaned over and pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek.”

“She inhaled a deep breath and prayed her mother wouldn't freak out. "I, um, met someone?" Also not exactly true, but she wasn't broaching the whole he's-an-ancientgod-who-came-to-life-through-my-snowman conversation. Not yet anyway. Maybe not ever.”

“Her eyes raked over his body, drinking in his tousled black hair, miles of bare skin and cut muscles, the black trail of curls that led down to his pajama bottoms, which had settled low on his hips. Dangerously low.Damn. She couldn't have built a better model if she'd tried. Even in the dim pre-morning light, his physical perfection was obvious.Movement drew her gaze back to his face and she blushed. Dark eyes blazed up at her. Totally busted.”

“After all, he'd been in the United States Army Special Forces, fuck you very much. You might take the man out of the SF, you couldn't take the SF out of the man. He'd been up against some of the world's meanest and toughest. So, goddamn straight he could work his way around one young woman.”

“I love...that elevator,” she said. With a sleepy smile and a full heart, he turned his head and kissed into her soft hair. “Aw, Red. I love that elevator, too.”

“You're freaking gorgeous!”

“His demanding tongue tasted so damn good, and his piercing bit deliciously against her lip from the aggressive way he pursued her over and over. His hands tugged and massaged at her hair and neck. He just surrounded her. The difference in their height made Caden lean down over her. The way he forced her head back commanded her to open up to him. With the metal handle of the door pressing into her back, she felt completely enveloped in him, in his ardor, his scent. The world dropped away. There was just Caden.”

“He crowded right up into her space, pressed his body against hers—trapping her against the glass of the door behind her, plunged his hands into her hair until he was cupping the nape of her neck, and devoured her lips with his.”

“Caden let out his own moan when her lips pressed against the skin in front of his ear. She exhaled roughly. The rush of her breath over his skin brought goose bumps to his neck.He trailed soft kisses across her cheek until he found her lips.And then he couldn’t go slow anymore.And neither could she.”

“...she saw herself. Christmas Eve. The snowman. Sorting the buttons. Disappointed she didn't have a matching pair for the eyes. Deciding it didn't matter-the large navy and chocolate buttons were all she had...”

“Instead of an ugly scratch of a scar, he'd given her a beautiful piece of himself. A snowflake. Small and discreet, noticeable if you knew to look, but otherwise really just for her. A gift.”