Thank you, Alex Harland, Earl of Melton, for making me so very hot.
He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Not that I don’t approve. You in breeches is quite possibly the finest thing I’ve seen all year.” His eyes clashed with hers. “A brand-new fantasy to add to my collection.”
“I have scores of them,” he said darkly. “Of you and me together.” His gaze lasted five whole beats of her heart before he looked away. Good God. Something dark and dangerous shivered in the air between them, a mutual awareness. Hunter and hunted. Predator and prey. Emmy’s heart raced, but mixed in with the fear was a sharp, unwelcome stab of desire. She must be mad.
He smiled. “Let’s try something new, shall we? I call it ‘honesty.’ It’s where you say things that are true. I’ll start, if you like. I’m hard as a rock for you right now.” Her mouth dropped open. He casually lowered his hand to his lap and readjusted the bulge that had appeared in the front of his breeches. It reached almost to his waistband. He made no effort to hide it; he simply looked down and laughed.
Thank you, Emmy Danvers, for being the kind of heroine I love to love: whip smart, brave, kind, irreverent and unafraid to dance on the edge.
Girls were scolded for laughing too loudly, for dancing too enthusiastically. For revealing they had a working brain. Part of Emmy’s delight in thieving had come from the knowledge that she was subverting every expectation. Breaking all the rules.
Seize the day, her grandmother Camille had adjured her. Go after what you want, my love, but be careful. Emmy gave a wry smile. Not carpe diem. Carpe hominem. She would seize the man.
She was Icarus, flying too close to the sun, Persephone being dragged down into the underworld. She didn’t care. This might be a disaster, but it was a glorious, glittering, incendiary disaster. A crazy blur of seeking limbs and hot mouths in the dark.
Thank you, Kate Bateman, for breaking me out of a months-long reading slump. For giving me the chemistry and passion, intimacy and feels I’ve been longing for.
Lust was undeniably a factor, but there was more to it than that. He loved her strength, her bravery, her quick wit. He loved catching her eye in a shared joke across the room, the way they seemed able to engage in silent communication. He appreciated her humor, and even the quiet moments, holding her in the darkness, just standing next to her without speaking. She engaged his mind. His heart. Alex blinked. Good God. Was he in love?
For writing a story that drew me in from the very beginning… for creating two characters I fell in love with and a story I didn’t want to end. And oh, the delicious kisses…
Alex closed his eyes and kissed her deeply, extravagantly. He let her taste his hunger, taking her breath and giving her his in a sinful, erotic exchange.
[…]
In a sudden move, he yanked the ribbon that held her mask. It fell to the floor, and Emmy felt instantly exposed. The tiny piece of cloth had given her more confidence than she’d realized, the illusion of safety. “Better,” he murmured. “I see you, Emmy Danvers.” Was that a threat? A warning?
There was no hesitation this time. No uncertainty. His mouth molded over hers confidently, the perfect weight, neither too soft nor too aggressive. Heat curled inside her. He increased the pressure, and her lips opened at his silent command. She gasped as his tongue tangled with her own. Brandy and sin. Emmy closed her eyes. He traced her lower lip then slid back for more, angling, pressing, repositioning; an endless slow burn that grew more and more urgent with every swirl of his tongue. Reason slipped away. Madness. This was madness. Nothing had ever felt so right. His mouth was even better than she remembered. Hot and insistent. Addictive. […] Another kiss. A deep, wet slide. Slow and languid, as if he had all the time in the world. As if he were savoring the taste of her.