“I stopped looking around when I heard a soft “mew” and I looked toward Tate to see he was crouched. He straightened and turned to me.I froze and stared.Tatum Jackson, ex-pro football player, ex-cop, now bartender/bounty hunter, tall, beautiful and more man than I’d ever experienced in my life was standing on the edge of his kitchen holding a cat.And it wasn’t just any cat and he wasn’t just holding it. He was cradling it.”

“He closed the damn door and turned and stopped, looking at her. “Sometimes,” he said softly, and stopped, then started again, “I often wonder why human men are so fixated on how a woman looks when there’s so much more to explore, and so many kinds of beauty—why obsess over one particular version? But sometimes, when I look at you, I understand."And sometimes, when he looked at her the way he was now, she was beautiful. Not just okay. Not even really pretty. Beautiful.”

“In fact, when he wasn’t being a jerk, controlling or a pain in the ass, he looked at me…He looked at me…Oh hell, he looked at me like I was his life.”

“You ever been fucked by a man’s mouth?” The way he said it, I knew he wasn’t talking about any kind of oral I’d experienced. I’d been teased and spoiled and serviced by guys’ mouths, but no, I hadn’t been fucked…”

“I said I wasn’t going to hurt you!” he growled, pinning me even further into the soft, wet earth. “But I never said that I wouldn’t hurt you!” I snapped. He brought his face toward mine. “I’d like to see you try,” he whispered.”

“Nick as in my former boyfriend Nick. Ex-rat, ex-boyfriend, ex-alive if I ever got hold of him Nick.”