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“She had killed and she had liked it, and he surely would have delighted to see her as she was now. Half-mad and fading fast, every inch the Gothic heroine that he’d envisioned. Ophelia, floating dead in the water and haunted by ghosts. Lilith, crafted from the earth instead of as a subjugate of the flesh, drawn to the fiercely blazing beauty of an angel only to find that the brilliant light singed as cruelly as the fires of hell. A fallen woman, drawn to her Lucifer. A cautionary tale to those who refused to bend to the natural order and fell in love with the wrong kind of man.”

“She would hate him even more if she knew all the depraved things he’d done. The fantasies, the stalking, the fucking obsession. That he had used her shampoo to jerk off and stolen her clothes, her lipstick. That when she wasn’t around, he had sometimes lain in her bed and imagined what it would be like to touch her the way she said she’d wanted to be touched in her journal. And of course, he had watched her touch herself. Every catch of her breath, every discreet rustle of fabric, every teasing glimpse of brown skin—he had seen it all, and taken it as a sign that not even Jay was immune to pleasure. And, more importantly, that he could give it to her. He could be the one to make her come.”

“Finally, he'd been forced to rip her hands from his shoulders and pin them to the sheets as he finished, and she'd fought him enough that he'd had to work a little to keep her pinned. When he came, Nick felt so dizzy with lust that it was like his head had been packed with cotton. She's all mine, he thought, as he thrust into her a final time, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the floral scent of her hair. She doesn't need to love me to give me what I want.”

“Jay was neither a small woman, nor a passive one, which suited Nick just fine because he had no use for either. No, underneath all that cool reserve of hers was something hot and bright that he wanted all to himself, something that infused her moral correctitude with a warmth that belied her restraint. He looked up to find her watching him and very deliberately pressed his mouth to the back of her hand before allowing her to free it. That was the price. Control—or the absence of it. He was going to make her lose it all.”