Eleanor

“Call us even. Call me crazy. I don’t care. Just…” His eyes are pleading, brimming with emotion. “Just call me yours.”
― Lauren Roberts, Reckless

“No, I'm sick of running. And I won't spend the rest of my life doing it unless it's you I'm running back to."
"Then I'll spend the rest of my life tracking you down," he says quietly. "Glimpsing you in shadows. Fighting you in the streets. Dancing with you in my dreams. Because living without you is only bearable when I know you are out there still living too.”
― Lauren Roberts, Reckless

“You don't regret it?"
She shakes her head, her smile sad, "No."
"Good," I murmur. "Because I've always had a thing for short hair."
"Oh, really?" She laughs as I sway us in a circle.
"It's true. Among other things, of course." I shrug a shoulder. "Short hair. Ocean-blue eyes. Twenty-eight freckles. And"- I pause, examining her with a tilt of my head-"how tall are you?"
She blinks in confusion. "Umm, about five and a half feet?"
"Five and a half feet," I continue evenly. "The terrifying ability to kick a man's ass. Stunning smile. Ridiculously stubborn. Hair like molten silver. Quick to threaten me with a dagger." I smile down at her. "Should I go on?”
― Lauren Roberts, Reckless

“She is the torture I may not survive.
Eagerly, she is my undoing.
Her gaze lifts, meeting eyes that are not my own.
Eyes of the man who gets to have her-if she allows it.
She was supposed to be my forever.
Now I'll watch her become someone else's.
Because the beast doesn't get the beauty.”
― Lauren Roberts, Reckless