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“Iris gasped. Dyemore's mouth burned. Almost his entire weight had sagged against her- and he wasn't a small man- but it was the kiss that most startled her. He... She could taste him, the wine he must've drunk this morning, the scent of smoke in his hair, drifting about her face, the heat rolling off him in thick waves. He was so overwhelmingly large, so excruciatingly masculine. She'd been married. She'd been kissed before- of course she had- but it hadn't been like this. Nothing like this. It was as if everything that made her female was being awakened and called forth by everything male in him.” — Elizabeth Hoyt
Iris gasped. Dyemore's mouth burned. Almost his entire weight had sagged against her- and he wasn't a small man- but it was the kiss that most startled her.
He...
She could taste him, the wine he must've drunk this morning, the scent of smoke in his hair, drifting about her face, the heat rolling off him in thick waves. He was so overwhelmingly large, so excruciatingly masculine.
She'd been married. She'd been kissed before- of course she had- but it hadn't been like this.
Nothing like this.
It was as if everything that made her female was being awakened and called forth by everything male in him.