“Miss Smith, your suspicions wound me,' he said with a smile. He drew her, stiff and unwilling, against his side. Immediately her warmth seeped into his veins. He’d known he’d missed her, but only now did he realize how much. 'I mean no harm.''You lie.''Often,' he agreed amiably, feeling the resistance leaching from her. 'Not this time.''I’m in no fit state to fight you,' she muttered, curving into him as if created to fit his body. 'I know,' he acknowledged ruefully, wondering why of all the women in the world, she was the only one who ignited any glimmer of chivalry in his soul. 'But it’s no fun when you just give in. I’ll wait until you’re up for another bout.'She hid her face in his shoulder. She inhaled on a shudder, as if she hadn’t taken a full breath in days. 'You’re an evil devil, Ranelaw.''Absolutely,' he said softly, firming his hold as she shifted, not away as she should, but closer.”

“The tension drained from her face and she softened in his hold until she was again the fluid, responsive woman who had kissed him within an inch of his life. This time he knew better than to restrain her when she slipped from the bed. He bit back an appeal for her to stay with him. If his life depended on it, he couldn’t say whether he wanted her to stay an hour, a day, or forever.”

“He’d always loved how she fought him. He loved the crackle and spark of her wit. Now he discovered he also loved the way she lay against him in what felt like perfect trust. … Antonia was a tall, vital woman, no shrinking miss. Now she felt brittle and vulnerable. He tightened his hold and told himself the surge of protectiveness meant nothing. Again he couldn’t quite believe it.”

“She loved his laughter. She loved that he faced the world with a reckless smile on his scarred face. Her heart crashed against her chest. A revelation descended. A revelation unrelated to the desire heating her blood.”

“He’d been right about her determination to save the people she loved. He wondered with a sudden pang he couldn’t identify how it would feel having someone like Antonia on his side.”

“You know what my favorite part was?" he says, stepping closer."Hmm?""We didn't fight. Not once. I hate fighting with you.""I do, too. It seems like a waste of time when..."He leans impossibly closer, holding her gaze. "When?""When we could be enjoying each other's company instead," she whispers. "But you probably don't enjoy my company here lately. I haven't been very nice-"He brushes his lips against hers, cutting her off. They're softer than he ever imagined. And it's not enough. Moving his hand from her jawline to entwine it in her damp locks, he pulls her to him. She tips up on her toes to meet him and as he lifts her from the ground, she folds her arms around his neck. Just as hungry for him as he is for her, she opens her mouth for a deeper kiss, pressing her soft curves into him. And Galen decides there is nothing better than kissing Emma.Everything about her seems made for him. The way her mouth moves in perfect rhythm with his. The way she combs her fingers through his hair, sending a stirring jolt down his spine. The way her cool lips ignite heat through his whole being. She fits in his arms, as if her every curve fills a place on his own body...”

“She shook her head. “No, Jonas.”“ ‘No, Jonas’ is all you ever say,” he responded with a hint of savagery. He knew he was unfair, but he was just so damned miserable.Her smile wavered into a warmth that calmed his anger. “Not always.”He shut his eyes as the memory of wild nights overpowered him. Good God, at this rate, he’d be bawling like a motherless calf.”