“Jilly looked at it with a sinking heart. It was difficult enough when the exotic, undeniably gorgeous creature of her fantasies had turned out to be an obnoxious bully. Of course he had to have a Harley, as well, completing the perfect bad-boy image. With the tattooed teardrops on his high cheekbones and spiky, waist-length, flame-colored hair and his long, leather-clad legs and pointy-toed cowboy boots, he was almost irresistible, despite his manners.A Harley sealed the deal. He was all her adolescent fantasies come true.And it was time to grow up.”

“I eat gaijin for breakfast…" His words trailed off as Jilly came out of the house, in her pseudo-frock, her combat boots, her spiky hair and her young, young face. He just stared at her, motionless, as if someone had clubbed him over the head with a mallet.Jilly froze where she was, staring back at the exotic creature in black leather and bright red hair who'd invaded the garden.”

“He released her hand back in her own lap. "Sometimes you give up what you love to stay alive.""Have you ever had to do that?"He turned his head to look at her so long it should have been dangerous, but he seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to the road. "It's coming," he said.And he turned away, driving into the slowly dawning day.”

“I knew you'd be wet," he whispered, and gave in to temptation, biting her ear.She quivered. "Now I want you to spread your legs for me. Just a little bit. That's right," he crooned in her ear. "That's perfect. You're perfect. Beautiful." He kissed the side of her neck, because he couldn't help it. He wanted his fingers inside her, wanted his cock inside her, but he couldn't have what he wanted. If he turned her, yanked off her pants and pushed her down on the floor he wouldn't stop, and this had to be for her and her alone.”

“He kissed the salty tears from her cheeks, her jaw, her neck. And then he kissed her mouth, slowly at first, tasting her pain and despair. Tasting her desire.He didn’t know whether he turned her in his arms, or whether she shifted herself. He only knew she was astride him, facing him, her long legs wrapped around his hips, and the kissing had gone long past comfort.”

“He pulled the knitting away from her, throwing it in the grass, then sank down on his knees in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his head in her lap. He was shaking, she realized, and the tears were pouring down her face, onto him, as she stroked his long, silken hair and cried.She didn't care what it sounded like—the hiccupping noises, the choking sobs.Her own body was shaking, racked by the final release, and he sat back on his heels and pulled her out of the chair, into his arms, holding her so tightly that a weaker woman might break, whispering to her in Japanese, sweet, loving words, letting her cry.She was a strong woman, and her tears, so long denied, only made her stronger.His heart was pounding against hers, his hands firm and tender, pushing the hair away from her tear-drenched face. When he kissed her she couldn't breathe, and she didn't care.”

“He caught up with her outside her doorway, when she almost gave up. He said nothing, simply pulled her into his arms, against his strong, hard body, and his hand slid beneath her hair, tilting her face up to his. “No more running away?” His voice was rough.His eyes glittered down into hers, and if she wanted tenderness it wasn’t there. Simply a dark, naked heat sparking between them.“No more running away,” she said.”