Tessa Bailey

“What color are your panties?""Excuse me?""You heard me.""Why?""Baby, if I'm going to take you into a room full of men wearing that dress, I'm damn well going to be the only one who knows the color of your panties.”

“The longer it takes me to get between your thighs, the rougher I'm going to be when I finally get there. Understand?”

“Let me be clear, Ginger, since you insist on talking in circles. I want you underneath me in my bed. I want to be buried inside you so deep that I have to remind you of your own name. And I want those motherfuckers leering at you from the other side of the bar to smell me on you for a week afterward.”

“Baby, I don't need an excuse to cuff you. I just need the opportunity.”

“Hot damn, Wip. We’ve got a stone-cold fox on our hands.” Willa flipped Ginger the bird without looking away from the full-length mirror. “This touching family sitcom moment brought to you by the letters F and U.”

“Who’s fucking you, Ginger?” She knew what he wanted to hear. Throwing her head back, she reveled in every word. “My man. My man is fucking me.”

“Do you feel that, baby? That's your man moving inside you.”

“So you know what your punishment is going to be, sweetheart? I'm going to make love to you. Slowly. Hell, it might take me until tomorrow. I'm going to lose count of how many times you come. And every time you do, I'm going to tell you that I love you. Until you fucking get used to it.”

“I warned you that I’m having a difficult time being a gentleman. Should I assume you’re provoking me on purpose?”