“Of course. The team on your carriage was beautiful. They are yours, aren't they?"He ignored her and walked ahead until his foot connected with soft mushy ground. "Shit," he muttered."Exactly."He glared at her, thinking himself a saint for not going for her throat.”

“He wanted to touch her, to tame her, to take her in his arms and make love to her until they were both exhausted and unable to think of anything beyond their embrace. He wanted to sink into her rich ebony curls, her beautiful eyes, her infinite softness and never return.”

“He halted abruptly, and this time she did slam into him, but at least it was his back absorbing the blow of her soft body. He could pretend to ignore it. “What have you got on your feet?” he growled.“Shoes.”He looked down, his eyes accustomed to the inky black. Light-weight sneakers, already soaking wet from the damp undergrowth. “Christ, woman,” he muttered.“I didn’t exactly get a chance to choose my wardrobe when they kidnapped me,” she said.Damned if he didn’t like her.”

“He ran the back of his fingers along her flushed cheek. His touch was soft, and she leaned her head in his direction. “My beautiful girl,” he said.She took in his expression. “You think I’m beautiful?”“I don’t think you’re beautiful, Haven,” he said. “I know you are.”

“He cleared his throat and reminded himself that if you pissed Her Holiness off, they'd need barbecue tongs to pick up your steaming pieces.”

“Oh, I don’t want to pat you on the head, faerie,” he said low in his throat in a deep purring growl that vibrated through her body. He bent closer until his lips brushed hers. “I want to fuck your mouth.”