“You know,” she said dreamily, passing over his question, “you’re not nearly as handsome as Lord St.Vincent.”“There’s a surprise,” he said dryly.“But for some reason,” she continued, “I never want to kiss him the way I do you.” It was a good thing that she had closed her eyes, for if she had seen his expression, she might not have continued. “There is something about you that makes me feel terribly wicked. You make me want to do shocking things. Maybe it’s because you’re so proper. Your necktie is never crooked, and your shoes are always shiny. And your shirts are so starchy. Sometimes when I look at you, I want to tear off all your buttons. Or set your trousers on fire.”

“There is something about you that makes me feel terribly wicked. You make me want to do shocking things. Maybe it's because you're so proper. Your necktie is never crooked, and your shoes are always shiny. And your shirts are so starchy. Sometimes when I look at you, I want to tear off all your buttons. Or set your trousers on fire. I've so often wondered-are you ticklish, my lord?”

“What do you want?"To know you," she said without hesitation. "All of you. I want to know what makes you feel good.""Your laughter," he said without hesitation. "Feeling your hands on me. The way you look at me, whether I've been a complete dumbass, or just made you come-"With a laugh, she ducked her head, but he dipped his down until she was looking at him again. "You want to know what scared me?" he asked. "Yes"He leaned even closer and slid a hand to the nape of her neck. "The thought of never having those things with you again."-Chloe and Sawyer (Head over Heels)”

“I--" She swallowed, perhaps summoning her courage, then continued, "I would not lie to you and say that I did not want this.""Me," he cut in peevishly. "You wanted me."She closed her eyes. “Yes,” she finally said, “I wanted you.”Part of him wanted to interrupt again, to remind her that she still wanted him, that it wasn’t and would never be in the past.“But I can’t have you,” she said quietly, “and because of that, you can’t have me.”And then, to his complete astonishment, he asked, “What if I married you?”

“The problem with being an alpha is that you can never make the first move.Makes you feel like you’re taking advantage of your position. You have to wait untilthe other person decides they want in.”Jim set the basket on the coffee table and crouched by me.“And sometimes it seems like that person likes you, and you try to test the waters,so you try to tell her how you feel, that she matters and that you want to be with herand you’re concerned about her safety. And every time you do that, she waves herarms around and accuses you of being a controlling alpha asshole. So you back offand hope you didn’t completely fuck it up.”He was close, too close. I just stared at him. What was happening . . . “Why areyou telling me this?”His voice was low and smooth. “That time when I told you it didn’t matter whatyour mother thought about your looks . . .”“Aha . . .”“I meant it,” he said. “Because I think you’re beautiful.”

“I begin to think,' said Estella, in a musing way, after another moment of calm wonder, 'that I almost understand how this comes about. If you had brought up your adopted daughter wholly in the dark confinement of these rooms, and had never let her know that there was such a thing as the daylight by which she has never once seen your face―if you had done that, and then, for a purpose, had wanted her to understand the daylight and know all about it, you would have been disappointed and angry? . . .'Or,' said Estella, '―which is a nearer case―if you had taught her, from the dawn of her intelligence, with your utmost energy and might, that there was such a thing as daylight, but that it was made to be her enemy and destroyer, and she must always turn against it, for it had blighted you and would else blight her―if you had done this, and then, for a purpose, had wanted her to take naturally to the daylight and she could not do it, you would have been disappointed and angry? . . .'So,' said Estella, 'I must be taken as I have been made. The success is not mine, the failure is not mine, but the two together make me.”