Emily

“You guessed? You must have been pretty sure, considering you could have killed me."
"I was ninety percent sure."
"I see," Clary said. There must have been something in her voice, because he turned to look at her. Her hand cracked across his face, a slap that rocked him back on his heels. He put his hands on his cheek, more in surprise than pain.
"What the hell was that for?"
"The other ten percent.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Bones

“You could have fooled me. Everytime I called you, Luke said you were sick. I figured you were avoiding me. Again."
"I wasn't. I did want to talk to you. I've been thinking about you all the time."
"I've been thinking about you, too."
"I really was sick. I swear. I almost died back there on the ship, you know."
"I know. Everytime you almost die, I almost die myself.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Ashes

“The very essence of romance is uncertainty.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest and Other Plays

“Rhys cleared his throat and tugged on his cravat. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Yes?” St. Clare livened up immediately as he took a sip of whisky.
“Do you treat your wife like your mistress?”
St. Clare raised a brow. Any other man would be sputtering his drink out of his mouth in surprise at the question. Not St. Clare. “No, I treat my wife a lot better than I have ever treated any of my mistresses.”
“That’s not exactly what I mean….” Rhys cleared his throat again.
“Then what do you mean?”
Rhys scratched his temple. “I mean in bed.”
“Oh…” Gabriel scowled. “I do not think I follow.”
“Well, I mean… All the depraved things you did with your mistresses, do you do them to your wife?”
Gabriel raised his brow. “If by depraved, you mean whether I pleasure my wife in every way I have learned how then yes. And she does the same for me.”
“You let her—”
“I let her do anything she wants to do to me and then teach her to do even more,” he added with a wink.
Rhys tugged on his cravat again in agitation. “What I mean is… I’ve heard time and time again that ladies are delicate creatures who cannot withstand arduous pursuits… There are things that are indecent—”
“Let me stop you right there, my dear, virtuous friend. What you think is indecent, I do to my wife every morning before breakfast. And what you call degrading or embarrassing, I call Tuesday.” He finished his drink and slammed the glass onto the desk. “There is no such thing as indecent between a husband and a wife. The only thing indecent is a cold marriage bed. Take it from a former rake.”
― Sadie Bosque, An Offer from the Marquess