“Even though I know Miranda is suppose to jam her heel—she wears leather boots with four-inch spikes in my version—into his shin, sending Caliban to the floor in a crippline mess, I don’t do that. Instead, like I’m some sort of primitive creature, an animal operating only on instinct, I whip around, lift my knee and jam it into his balls. Henry grabs his crotch and falls to the ground. He moans, the class gasps, and Ms. Peck stands motionless.”—240”

“Willem holds my wrist for a long moment, looking at that birthmark. Then he lifts it to his mouth. And though his lips are soft and his kiss is gentle, it feels like a knife jamming into the electrical socket. It feels like the moment when I go live”

“My hands are in his hair and his arms wrap around my waist tighter. I know what Henry does to me. I’m space bound. A rocket about to blast off. And I want Henry to send me to the moon.”

“My heart beat spikes, and I think I’m panting. Jeez, I’m a quivering, moist mess, and he hasn’t even touched me. I squirm in my seat and meet his dark glare.”

“Gavin! What’ll I wear home?”“Cloak.” His voice roughened and he ripped harder, tossing the material to the ground. I felt his smile when he kissed my neck, and shivers ran down my back at the sound of his low growl.“I made that! I don’t have many of those, you know.”“Cam,” he snaked one hand around my stomach and made his way north, slipping one hand into my corset top to grope my chest. “You won’t be thinking about it when I’m inside you.” His hips shifted off my back and he separated my legs with his knee, his breathing ragged against my shoulder. “Now forget the damn dress.”

“She lifted the tails of his elegant silk evening shirt. “Some that don’t reach my knees?”He cleared his throat. He liked her wrapped in his shirt, surrounded by him. “Well, actually, as Joshua knows, that is one of your annoying habits. You like to run around in my shirts. You think they are much more comfortable than your own clothes.”Alexandria regarded him with wide blue eyes. “Oh, I do, do I? I take it you grumble about it.”“Often, to Josh. We laugh together about the idiosyncrasies of women. He thinks you look cute in my shirts.”“And what would give a little boy an idea like that?”He looked unrepentant. “I might have mentioned it a time or two.”His golden eyes slid over her body, making her aware of her bare skin beneath his shirt, of every curve of her body, of the fact that they were completely alone in some secret chamber of his home.“It is true, after all. You do look cute in my shirt.”