Violet And Christian Quotes

“He gently grasped her fingers. To touch her again after a week apart was bliss; heat and the faint hum of a current seemed to work its way up his arm to settle in his belly. His body recognized her immediately as need tore swiftly through him, the need to hold her against him and inhale her sweet scent, to feel the beat of her heart. The gold ring held a rose-cut emerald set in the middle of two matching diamonds with a scrollwork band.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“That was your home. It was a place you loved, and I won't have you selling it for me."
"It was not my home. I thought it mattered, but it doesn't." You are all that matters. "It was a shell of a building. I know what real loss feels like now, and that was a mere echo.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“Lord Lucifer, the name she had chosen to represent Lord Leigh. She could not help the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips as she read the attributes beneath his name. Arrogant and entitled, he exuded wickedness. The whispers she had heard told the story of a man who overindulged himself in sensory pleasure- women, cards, and drink (possibly more). He owned a club with the Duke of Rothschild where all manner of illicit things happed. But it wasn't't only hedonism that she discerned in him. No, there was a danger about him that she couldn't quite understand. As someone who believed herself capable of assessing the character of a person within a matter of minutes, that alone made him very intriguing. It didn't hurt that he was also devilishly handsome. With thick dark hair, pale gray eyes, and cheekbones that could cut glass, she imagined that Lucifer himself would take his form should he deign to set foot upon the earth.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“Had she thought him dispassionate? His eyes were anything but that. The expression within them roiled with an intensity that held her rooted in place behind a sofa. And then he smiled. A tiny upward tilt on the left side of his mouth that promised wicked thoughts were accompanying it. Or were those wicked thoughts merely a reflection of her own? Her fictitious heiress, Miss Rose Hamilton, was known for coveting Lord Lucifer's distinctive smile. Violet simply had to work harder to separate herself from her character.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“I'm not sure I can ever repay you, considering I am leaving town for the foreseeable future, but if you have ever need of me, I assure you I will be happy to assist you in any way."
The coil of desire that seemed to always possess him in her presence made itself known, tightening deep in his gut. A vision of her on her knees in the carriage repaying him ran through his mind. She was entirely too naive to have meant those words the way his body had taken them. A quick glance at her innocent face assured him that he was every bit the lecher in this scenario.
He would not seduce her innocence away from her, not until they were married. That flicker of guilt returned, putting a fine edge of pain on his desire for her. The gossips would have told her that he was not some bastion of virtue. She must know that men like him were to be avoided. He had even heard Lady Helena warn her away. She should have run from him, or at least made him chase her down the pavement, forced to prove his good intentions. But no, she had put her small hand in his and allowed him to help her into his carriage. The wolf leading the innocent astray.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“Had he read about Lord Lucifer? Did he know the man was him? Had he read the sinful thoughts Miss Hamilton had about him? Violet had written them too honestly and explicitly for publication. She had intended to go back and edit out some of the more wicked lines. They had been little more than girlish fantasies she had set to paper. Those lines came out to torment her now.
He was depravity and his name was Lord Lucifer, the dark angel himself come to earth to tempt innocents. Rose had never so wanted to be debauched as when he gazed upon her.
And this one: She stared at his mouth, the sensual lips and pink tongue licking at the drop of honey, and she longed to feel him licking at her.
Oh, dear God! Neither of those were ever meant to see the light of day. She had written the last one in a heated moment after coming home from a ball where he had eaten a honey-drenched fig.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“My birth does instill in me certain privileges, but it is my fault for being blind to them."
Just like that, she felt her defenses lowering. Pleased with his answer, she smiled at him. "No one has ever told you no, have they, my lord?"
He grinned, revealing that tiny dimple in his cheek that sometimes made an appearance. "It happens. Occasionally."
"It should happen more often.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“I think we might strike up a proper friendship if given the chance." She smiled, looking both shy and eager for his acceptance.
He had to look away, lest he reveal how much he wanted her. They could be very good friends. He could see that easily. She was charming and intelligent, with a sensible logic that belied her years. To be fair, she was not at all how he expected she would be. His interest before had been almost purely physical and mercenary- even then something else about her had appealed- but now... at some point during the past couple of days a fondness for her had taken root.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“Now if only they have a proper bath and hot water, it would be heavenly."
His eyes deepened. There was no other way to describe them. They darkened somehow and became more intent and serious. He had given her that same look several times now on the trip, and it never failed to make her breasts feel heavier and an ache began deep within her.
"I will make certain of it," he said.
A naughty image of him joining her in the bath flitted across her mind. Did people do that, or was she being depraved?”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“Christian was not talking at all. He was reading aloud.
"I explained to her that I had no parents. She inquired how long they had been dead; then how old I was, what was my name, whether I could read, write, and sew a little; then she touched my cheek gently with her forefinger, and saying 'She hoped I should be a good child,' dismissed me along with Miss Miller."
He was reading Jane Eyre to her!”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“Guide my hands. I don't wish to hurt you."
"Lower," she said when he pressed fingertips to the middle of her back. "Lower," she urged, guiding him downward. "There."
He started softly, pressing the pads of his fingers to the muscles he felt. She sighed, a sound that vibrated down his spine, settling with a flickering and tightening heat in his scrotum. He shifted as his blood thickened like honey in his veins. This was too much to ask of him. He was already drunk on arousal and need. It swam through his head like whisky, making his thoughts give way to instinct and consequences appear murky.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“She could only admire the breadth of his chest, each pectoral muscle clearly defined. Her palms itched to explore them, and she wanted to curl her fingers in the sprinkling of dark hair that narrowed over the flat plains of his belly. There was an indentation bisecting them that she ached to trace. The hair grew denser just below his navel, arrowing toward his low-slung drawers, half-opened now. She gasped when she saw it. The tip of him rose up, thick and pink, protruding over the top of the linen. The ache between her thighs increased, as if knowing he was meant to be inside her to assuage it.
He saw her take notice and kept his arms up, fingers laced behind his head, as if basking in her study of him.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“Little by little, the discomfort gave way to the aching pleasure from before. She canted her hips, caught as she was between the steel of his manhood and the skill of his fingers. The pulsing ache had returned, greedy and demanding more. Except this time he was there, filling her completely, creating a new wave of intoxicating pleasure with her every movement as he nudged against a sensitive place deep inside her.
"Yes, that's it." His voice was serrated with desire. "Fuck me."
A cry tore from her lips, and she tilted her hips again, pushing back. He answered her silent plea by thrusting into her at the same time. A spark of white-hot light shot across her vision. Then he did it again, and again, moving in a controlled rhythm that matched the stroking of his hand. He attacked her with pleasure from both sides. All too soon she was trembling, her breath coming erratically as she cried out into the blankets as wave after wave of gratification broke over her.
Only then did he falter in his pace. He fell over her, holding himself off her with one hand while grabbing a handful of her hair with the other. He pulled her head back and took her mouth in a kiss, his hips losing their rhythm too become erratic and fitful.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“I'm perspiring." He had only just now realized that he was likely ruining her gown. "I was training." He tried to push her away, but she only brought his mouth to hers.
"Yes, I know. I saw. It's why I'm rather in a hurry."
So the look she had given him hadn't been censure after all. She had been fighting her desire for him. It was as plain as day in her eyes. He laughed, and the beast in him slipped the reins, clawing at her clothing as he tried to find her beneath it.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“We should celebrate. And then we'll celebrate again when your second manuscript is finished."
She shook her head again. "Then we should have a double celebration tonight. I already finished it."
"You did?"
"It's all I could think of these past months. Lord Lucifer and his annoying brooding. He wouldn't leave me alone."
She giggled when he tackled her to the bed, rising over her. "I'm glad he tormented you as you tormented me.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress

“Violet! Hand wraps not yet tied off, he hurried to the door just as she rushed into the room. She paused and looked faintly appalled when she saw him. The initial burst of joy he felt turned to caution. Shirtless in breeches and boots, his usual costume for bare-knuckle brawling matches that he had taken to wearing while exercising, he understood how he must look to her. Beastly and unrefined. His true nature.”
― Harper St. George, The Devil and the Heiress