“Groupies are like chocolate...A stupid man will think he can gorge himself on them with no consequences. But then he turns around and discovers they’re just empty calories. They’ve just messed up his life when the only thing good for him was what he’d already been eating all along.” - Nick Blackthorne”

“He entered the room, noticing three things at once. There was a fire beginning to build in the small brick fireplace on the wall to his left, the room smelt like its owner, clean and delicate and flowery, and Lauren lay stretched on the bed. Naked.His heart slammed harder against his chest and his c#ck twitched again. At this rate, it wouldn’t take long at all before he would be sliding into her. Jesus, just looking at her turned him on. Turned him on and left him at her mercy. No, that wasn’t right. Left him…absolute. Without her in his life, he’d been insubstantial.”

“Goddess,” he rasped, running his hands over her hips, up her legs.“Lover,” she whispered back, threading the fingers of her right hand through the fingers of his left and moving his hand to her breast. It was heavy and swollen and ripe with desire. He scraped his thumb over her nipple, loving the way she closed her eyes and hummed in appreciation. He loved that she was in charge. He loved how she took pleasure from his body with such confident leisure. He loved how she squeezed her innermost muscles in pulse after deliberate, exquisite pulse as she rode his length. He loved how he was just that to her, her lover, not Nick Blackthorne rock star, but just the man she gave her body, her heart, her soul to. He loved her. Everything about her.”

“Heart pounding, he collapsed on top of her, claiming her lips with his as he did so, making love to her mouth with his tongue as his spent c#ck continued to spasm inside her p#ssy. Wanting to give her pleasure even as the steel left his length. She wrapped her arms around his back, tangling her legs with his as she returned his kiss. The pulsing pressure of her fading orgasm on his dick was an unbearable caress he would willingly endure until the end of time. An affirmation of the pleasure he gave her.A confirmation of what his heart had been telling him since he’d first laid eyes on her: he was hers. Irrevocably and unquestionably.”

“Lauren,” he murmured.She looked up into his face, into his glazed eyes. Her lips parted to say something cutting, pithy, witty—God, anything would be better than nothing—when he leant toward her, those angry-sky eyes of his growing intense with clarity, and then his mouth was on hers.Lord, he still kisses…His tongue dipped past her lips, seeking and finding hers with little resistance. He tasted as good as he had fifteen years ago—toothpaste and coffee and him. He tasted as good. He smelt as good. He felt as good.”

“Her soft voice played over his senses like it always had, her English accent more pronounced than ever. Or was that because his ears had become acclimatized to the Australian accents around him again? He didn’t know.He pulled in a slow breath, headache forgotten, the subtle scent of Emily’s perfume filtering into his body. His stomach knotted, his balls grew harder, that delicate fragrance flooding him with memories too haunting to bear. She’d cured him of anaplastic astrocytoma, and in the process inflicted him with something else. Something powerful and—he was discovering all too quickly—inescapable.”

“Lauren returned her phone to her ear. “Jenny!” she snapped, “I don’t have time right now. I need your help. I can’t move Nick by myself and I can’t leave him on the ground. He’ll catch a cold—”“A cold?” Jennifer interrupted. “You can’t leave him on the ground because he’ll catch a cold? How ’bout you can’t leave him on the ground because he’s Nick Blackthorne?”