“Additionally, Adam’s room had an absolutely massive bed with a plump feather tick that she knew they would put to good use.“Shall we christen it now?” Adam whispered in her ear, his arms stealing around her from behind in spite of the footmen who were still busy bringing up their luggage. Skimming his lips over her cheek, he playfully caressed her nape in a way that never failed to drive her wild. “I could shoo them all out and lock the door. We wouldn’t even have to take off our clothes, I could just tumble you down and toss up your skirts. What do you say, wife, shall I tup you now, or would you rather wait until later?”

“Good morning.” His lips quirked. “I nearly expired from old age, waiting to see if you would actuallyknock on the damn thing. My heart couldn’t take it any longer.”She lifted her chin and stepped inside, brushing past him as she did so. “So you are saying that if only Ihad had a few beats more, I would finally have been rid of you?”She caught his lazy grin as she passed. “I plan to haunt you even in the afterlife,” he whispered, the air ofhis words brushing her ear, the door engaging behind her.”

“Well, if it’s an order,” she said on a gentle tease, warmed by his words in spite of herself. “You know, for such a cerebral man, you certainly have powerful physical appetites.”His lips curved in a seductive smile. “Of course, I do. I’m a Byron, after all. It’s in my blood.”

“Gennie,you should have told me you hadn't been with a man before." And how was it possible, he wondered, that she'd let no man touch her before? That he was the first...the only."Why?" she said flatly,wishing he would go, wishing she had the strength to leave. "It was my business."Swearing,he shifted,leaning over her. His eyes were dark and angry, but when she tried to pull away,he pinned her. "I don't have much gentleness," he told her, and the words were unsteady with feeling. "But I would have used all I had,I would have tried to find more,for you." When she only stared at him, Grant lowered his forehead to hers. "Gennie..."Her doubts,her fears,melted at that one softly murmured word. "I wasn't looking for gentleness then," she whispered. Framing his face with her hands, she lifted it. "But now..." She smiled, and watched the frown fade from his eyes.He dropped a kiss on her lips, soft, more like whisper,then rising, lifted her into his arms. Gennie laughed at the feeling of weightlessness and ease. "What're you doing now?""Taking you inside so you can warm up, dry off and make love with me again-maybe not in that order."Gennie curled her arms around his neck. "I'm beginning to like your ideas. What about our clothes?""We can salvage what's left of them later." He pushed open the door of the lighthouse. "We won't be needing them for quite a while.""Definitely like your ideas." She pressed her mouth against his throat.”

“Are you willing?"Through the shadows, he found her gleaming eyes, her slightly curved mouth. "No, it's too reckless. Too irresponsible.""You're sounding like a father. Or a constable, Constable.""I'm both, Miss Connor."He watched her lips tilt and flow into a glorious smile. "Rory's in bed, safe and sound. Most of the town is in bed, safe and sound. And you're here, with a pragmatic woman who can take care of herself. Two adults and one magnificent challenge.""More like a dare," he said and drained his glass.She took a step closer, until her skirt brushed his knee. "Call it a dare if you like.""No." His resolve slipped a notch when she crouched before him, the pleasing angles of her face flooding into view. She was much, much too tempting."I'll do it all. You don't have to participate. That should be enough to prove my case.""I wasn't serious when I said that. I'm sure you're not, hell, frigid."She leaned in, her hands sliding along the arms of the chair, her face fading out of view as it closed in on his. A scent, provocative and earthy, stole in with his stuttered breath. "You see, Constable, I'm always serious." He watched her moisten her lips, so near he could almost taste her. "Close your eyes. I've heard that's the way it's done.”

“Biting her lip to stop her chin from quivering, Alexandra raised her eyes to his. "I think," she whispered, trying to smile, "I shall wear the ruby on Queen's Race day, so that when I tie my ribbon on your sleeve—" With a groan, Jordan pulled her into his arms. "Now that you've said all those other things," she whispered when he finally lifted his lips from hers several minutes later, "do you think you could possibly say 'I love you'? I've been waiting to hear that since you began and—" "I love you," he said fiercely. "I love you," he whispered softly, burying his face in her hair. "I love you," he groaned, kissing her lips. "I love you, I love you, I love you…”

“Being held by him, kissed and mastered, taken under and swept away, enthralled her in a way she—an independent woman if nothing else in this life—could not have understood until forced to understand. From the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair, finally, a man's strength dominated her.Suddenly, she understood why women wanted so deeply. Why they wanted him. If they sensed even one-tenth of his passion, his power, his vitality, they would break his door down to get to him.And this, she learned as quickly as any pupil could, was what had been missing before: Zachariah Garrett's full participation. In all fairness to the dare, she locked her arms around his neck and consented to a draw.He murmured something low and unintelligible, his wine glass dropping to the grass with a soft thump. The arm around her waist tightened, the other climbing, his fingers delving into her loose chignon and tilting her head as he deepened the kiss, drawing down on her bottom lip and sucking. Instinct had her following his lead, shifting to better accommodate, parrying each thrust of his tongue with her own, rising on the tips of her toes to better sink into him, to gorge herself in vast, voracious gulps. The frantic nature of their joining melted her stiff posture and her cocksure bearing, rolling through her in a languid, glorious wave of sensation and recognition. It was a peculiar time to realize she had built her sense of self around an erroneous ideal.She was no different than other women.”