Safe was no longer enough.

I wanted her happy.

I had never been with a man who reached for me simply because he wanted to. Not out of dominance, not to stake a claim, not as a prelude to sex. Just a touch, a connection, as natural as breathing.

Butterflies—actual butterflies—fluttered in my stomach, something light and unfamiliar stirring in my chest.

I’d always thought that was just some romantic notion, a dreamy fantasy only found in books.

~Daria Melnichenko, Mission Shift

She bit her bottom lip. Nervous tic or calculated move, I couldn’t tell, but it drew my eyes down to that goddamn mouth of hers. Soft. Full. Screaming to be ruined.

“You’re full of yourself,” she snapped, clearly catching my stare. “But let me guess. You think girls like me should be seen and not heard, right?”

“No,” I said coolly. “I think girls like you should be f***ed face down until that pretty mouth learns when to stay busy and when to stay silent—until obedience stops being a choice.”

~Nikolai Volkov, Eyes on You

She was so touch-deprived it bordered on cruelty, and I planned to make up for every stolen moment—to hold her, to care for her, until every fiber of her body and every corner of her soul recognized she was loved by me.

~Lucian Byrne, Eyes of the Unholy

“I went from a career that was on track, a boyfriend who I thought was total husband material, and a past that was neatly tucked away where it belonged…to this.” I glanced around the room, holding my hands out in a helpless gesture. “Jobless, single, hitching rides with strangers. And a past that’s now the only future I have.” I laughed bitterly. “Sometimes fate’s a little bitch.”

~Noelle Nichols, Christmas Cancellation

The thought of being the one to unravel her, to guide her to unexplored heights of pleasure, sent a thrill of anticipation through me. This was more than mere attraction; it was a challenge, a puzzle begging to be solved.

~Dr. Atticus Thorin, Night Shift

Instead of standing, he lowered himself onto one knee between my legs and took my face gently in both hands.

“Look at me, Isabella.”

Something in the roughness of his voice made me obey.

His green eyes held mine, and hearing my name wrapped in that deep Irish accent made everything else recede.

“You’re safe,” he said.

I’d left with a hard-on, a headache, and a woman I might have to save.

I was beginning to understand that once Lachlan decided something was his responsibility, the cost to himself stopped being part of the equation. Pain, danger, inconvenience—it didn’t seem to matter. He would do what he said he would do and deal with the consequences afterward.

Kol seemed intent on savoring every moment, stretching time until it became a malleable, pliant thing in his hands. His deliberate and precise way of claiming my body would leave an indelible mark on my memory. It was both exciting and a little terrifying, the thought of this confident, possessive pilot taking command of my pleasure.

~Noelle Nichols, Christmas Cancellation