“How in hell had a casual embrace turned into an all-consuming kiss?Edgy and rattled, Joaquin stalked back to his cantina, The Watering Hole. Reluctantly, he accepted it had been one of those moments his mother used to call earthquake moments—they were not significant events, but deep down you knew that the repercussions could alter the course of your life.”

“Slowly, Joaquin leaned in, drawn closer to her against his will. Pursing his lips, he breathed warm air across her cheeks, like animals do when they learn each other’s scent, learn to trust. “Easy now,” he whispered in between the soft puffs of air. “Let go of the fear.”“I can’t,” she said, in a little broken voice that clenched at his heart.“Yes you can.” Joaquin let his lips touch her skin, the merest hint of a contact. She made a tiny sound of alarm, a cross between a sob and a cry. He brushed his mouth against hers. A shudder shook her body, but she pressed into him, seeking his shelter. Keeping his hands braced to the timber, he deepened the kiss. His mouth slanted over hers, bolder now.Her hands rose between them and fisted into his shirt.”

“Nudging her legs apart with one knee, he poised himself above her. “Do you want it fierce and powerful?” he asked in a husky tone.She nodded.He pushed inside her in one swift thrust and waited for her to react, to welcome him. Her legs rose to coil around his hips. She clung to his shoulders. Her body tightened, holding him in, wanting him.”

“Sebastian closed his eyes, his chin sinking toward his chest. How long he’d been trapped by those words, afraid to scare her away. How long he’d hoped that after she dealt with Ian’s ghost she would one day turn to him. Her confession of her relationship with Ian while they sat in the tree had been one step, her willingness to let him pleasure her another, and yet still it wasn’t enough. He wanted everything: her trust, her joy, her heart, her vulnerability.”

“Chloe scoffed. "Excuse me, but if this place reeks of body odor, it’s not because of me. I am not the one with the shirt soaked in sweat here." She glanced at me.My cheeks burned. It was one of those moments where you wished the earth could rip open and swallow you whole."Oh, that’s why I can see your bra," Vincent pointed out, looking at my chest. "Nice boobs by the way."I looked down and almost had a heart attack. In the haste, I’d put a white top over a black bra.”

“But that isn't the strangest part," Fallon said. He peered down the corridor, as if to make sure Philip wasn't nearby.Then he turned to Charlotte. "He's started thanking me, Your Grace." His beetled eyebrows pulled low. "When I iron the paper, he thanks me. When I announce a visitor, he thanks me. Why, he even thanked me the other day for opening the door. 'Thank you, Fallon,' he says.”

“In the first place, good people are rarely suspicious; they cannot imagine others doing the things they themselves are incapable of doing; usually they accept the undramatic conclusion as the correct one, and let matters rest there. Then, too, the normal are inclined to view the multiple killer as the as the one who’s as monstrous in appearance as he is in mind, which is about as far from the truth as one could well get. He paused and then said that these monsters of real life usually looked and behaved in a more normal manner than their actually normal brothers and sisters: they presented a more convincing picture of virtue than virtue presented of itself—just as the wax rosebud or the plastic peach seemed more perfect to the eye, more what the mind thought a rosebud or a peach should be than the imperfect original from which it had been modeled.”