Maybe that was just the way love went—it was something that happened *to* you, and the best preparation you could hope for was the chance to take a deep breath before the wave of it crashed above you and you were in over your head.
The world in which deception lives like romance cannot grow with innovation.
And the rain makes a kind of curtain, which is probably for the best. Because all of a sudden, I'm leaning over the gear stick, and my hands are on his shoulders, and I'm trying to keep breathing.
She said that if you can’t see yourself being happy with someone for the rest of your life, if you know he won’t treat you well, if you have to change him to meet your standards, then he isn’t the one.
You might want to hold tight to the arms of the chair.” That was the last warning he offered before he bent his head…
I… I do not think that… gentlemen do this sort of thing.” Her pulse raced with excitement and anticipation. “Only scoundrels.
Clearly you were never meant to be a harem girl at all,” he said lightly, running his thumb over the tattoo on her left arm. “You were meant to be a sea captain.
She was probably mentally calculating all the sins he’d just admitted and storing them for later use. When she wanted to fight off his romantic attentions, that would be ammunition to throw back in his face.
It’s weird, how you have no idea how far you’ve come until suddenly you can’t find the way back.
I’d do anything to be inside you right now.
Suddenly, he understood why he couldn’t have her back then, or now. Or ever. He was a starving man and she was an oasis, a hallucination, a single sparkling drop of water in his desiccated world. And the problem with giving in, drinking that water, getting just one little taste, was that he’d know exactly what he’d been missing. And he’d never, ever be able to go back.
every man there had been trained from childhood in the brutal schools, as assassins. They were all looking for a new life and trying to figure out the rules of society. They knew they'd never fit perfectly, but they were doing their best.
Cooking’s like making music.” She threw him a smile. “It’s the perfect storm of smell and touch and taste and even sound, you know? That sizzle in the pan, the pop of spices. The moment you turn the heat off and there, right there, the ingredients let off a warm, enveloping steam.” “I eat to survive,” he said, matter-of-factly. She opened her mouth, then shut it. Was it sad to eat for survival? That was exactly what they were doing right here and the pleasure of it was almost blinding.
They were coarse and crude. They made rude finger gestures to one another and they were their scars like badges. They were a family, unbreakable, loyal and absolutely powerful when they stood together.
The Ice Man… cometh.
You feel a loss of control?” “Never… Never had control to begin with.
He moved in, set his chin on her shoulder, and whispered, “I can’t…” When he didn’t go on, she turned a little to the right, enough to put the tips of their noses together. “Can’t what?” “Can’t stop wanting you.
He rose. “Come here.” Like a moth to a flame, mesmerized, or hypnotized, or something. Angel went to him, giving herself up to Ford Cooper’s ephemeral net.
I thought you were a jerk.” He shook with an unexpected burst of laughter. “I know.” He squeezed her tight, trying to figure out how to keep her alive. “I know.
We’re heading out into the most dangerous place on earth with killers after us?” “Yeah.” He couldn’t help a grim smirk. “Better hit the road.
