“—except for the fact that your scars mean you’ve been hurting, I am one-hundred-percent cool with having them in the painting. Some models, especially the professional ones, it’s like painting air-brushed people. Give me something raw any day.”

“Possess. Have. Hold. Enjoy. Control. Dominate. Pick your verb, Ms. Fairchild. I intend to explore so very many of them.”

“Do you know what passion is?”I blink, confused.“Most people think it only means desire. Arousal. Wild abandon. But that’s not all. The word derives from the Latin. It means suffering. Submission. Pain and pleasure, Nikki. Passion.”

“When I am no longer a limp noodle and can actually compel my limbs to function, I get off the table and back into my robe. Damien and I leave at the same time, and Jamie’s door opens as we’re passing. She looks between me and Damien, then glances sideways at her masseuse, a tall blond man with large, capable-looking hands.“You know,” Jamie says dryly, “nothing personal, but I don’t think I got the same level of service that she did.”To his credit, the masseuse smiles. “Come,” he says, gesturing for her to follow.“That’s the problem,” she mutters to me as she passes, “I didn’t.”

“I'm going to fuck you, Nikki. Pleasure? We're going to blow the roof off pleasure. I'm going to make you beg for it. I'm going to claim you. I'm going to tease you. I'm going to torment you. And you're going to come for me like you've never come in your life.”

“He is Jason and Hercules and Perseus---a figure so strong and beautiful and heroic that the blood of the gods must flow through him, because how else could a being so fine exist in this world?”

“Everyone breaks a little sometimes. That doesn't make you weak. It makes you wounded.”