“Emma snapped from her daze. She sat forward and slid to ground so quickly that Hart was forced to scoot back.He fell to his backside, suddenly struck with the image of how he must look: sprawled on the floor with a cockstand, a pair of pink drawers in his fist. Utterly ridiculous. Corrupt. Depraved. Hart couldn't help but grin.”

“You take control, Emma," he whispered. The words tickled her ear, he spoke them so close. Shivers raced down her neck, down her chest and her belly. "Take control of me. Come to me." Her neck arched, wanting his mouth to bite her. "If you do Emma, I may give you what you want. Or I may offer more than you can handle. Risk. That's what you like, isn't it? So play with fire. Play with me.”

“I'll need hot water for washing." Hart barked.Wellford murmured, "Immediately sir," as he bowed back out the door. He did not say, "Of course, sir. I bring you hot water every single morning, even when you haven't debased yourself for a woman.”

“He pushed up a little, raising his head to look into her eyes. After a moment, weariness settled into his features. "It's too late regardless. I'm yours now."I'm yours. The beautiful opposite of what Peter White had said to her. You're mine now, he'd crowed, as if she were a purchased treat. The difference, it seemed, between a boy and a man. Just as Jude had promised.”

“Can we go inside, Eve?"She inhaled quietly at the way his voice wrapped around her name. One deep syllable that had always made her wish she was called something longer and more complicated. Genevieve or Isabella. Something that would take him full seconds to say so she could feel it rumble over her skin.”

“Lori sat way back in her chair and gave him the once-over. "What in the world's gotten into Ben Lawson? jokes? Flirting? Maybe I should sleep with Molly. I think she's got a magic hooha.”

“He tilted his head in such gracious acknowledgment that she felt churlish. 'I can assure you I've not yet squished a lady. Not even once.”