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Quote by Alexandra Brown

“I see what can only be described as pure unadulterated sex striding towards us. Oh my actual God. This man is a vision. He's wearing a gorgeous suit that I'd say has been stitched lovingly by hand in Italy or somewhere equally seductive. It's the perfect shade of ink-blue and frames a crisp white shirt, the collar of which is undone to reveal a teaser of his black curly-haired and very firm tanned chest that has just the right hint of sheen. His eyes are the darkest brown and nestling in sumptuous eyelashes that make me want to lick them right here and now.”

Quote by Alexandra Brown

Book:Cupcake's at Carrington's
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Cupcake's at Carrington's

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Alexandra Brown

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“Oh, thank you! Thank you," she chirped, surprising him by bounding across the room and clasping him tight for a quick hug. His arms hung heavy and loose at his sides during her gentle siege. Rothbury had enchanted exotic opera singers into returning to his bed time and again. He had warmed coldhearted courtesans into confessing their undying love and he had seduced a number of beautiful, feisty women who were just as fickle in picking their lovers as he was. But Charlotte's hug unsettled him, knocked him off balance, one might say. He didn't want her to let go. But he wouldn't dare bring up his arms to hold her either. Without a doubt he knew if he indulged himself, all he felt, all he thought, would be exposed in the warmth of his embrace. And then there would be no turning back. He would be bared, revealed, humiliated.”

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Book:To Wed a Wicked Earl
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“Rothbury inhaled the familiar lemon-tinged air wafting before him. He remained silent, ignoring the zing of awareness thrumming through him, and listened for the sound of footfalls instead. Whoever had entered the room, it was definitely a young woman. He'd bet one of his prized Arabians on it, but it wasn't Cordelia. She smelled perpetually of pungent roses, which he had been partial to in the beginning of their short love affair, but which now merely reminded him that the woman connected to it was just as clingy and thorny as the flower itself. But this scent- he inhaled deeply as it now surrounded him- inspired contentment, which was a miracle in itself, considering all he wanted to do presently was break free, find Lady Gilton, and throttle her elegant neck. "Who's there?" Rothbury demanded, his tone firm but quiet. He pulled at the twisted silk binds holding his wrists together behind him, noting they were finally starting to tear. "Come now," he said in a tone he used on skittish horses. "Tell me who's there.”

Scent Of A WomanAdam FaramondCharlotte And AdamCharlotte Greene
Book:To Wed a Wicked Earl
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“Even in the dim light emanating from the few illuminated windows of the mansions, Charlotte could see that this man's body was athletic and pleasing to the feminine eye. This was no young, besotted whelp declaring his undying love. This was a man. A clearly stubborn one, but a man just the same. Long and lean muscled, a trim waist and narrow hips, and strong legs encased in black breeches that he must have inched his way into. Inexpressibles. Charlotte almost sighed.”

MasculinePhysiqueAdam Faramond
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“Men and women cannot be friends. It is impossible." Her brow furrowed. "And why not?" He bit back a smile. Lord, she was an easy one to fool. If he had a mind to fool her, that is. She was so gullible; he had no idea how she made it through life so far without being compromised, fleeced, or coerced into buying a three-legged horse at least a half a dozen times. He cleared his throat to keep a cynical grin from creeping in. "Because, my sweet, sweet naive creature, lust would, undoubtedly, get in the way. You've heard of lust, correct?" Pressing her lips together, she nodded. "Of course." "Damn. I should have liked to explain it to you in excruciating detail. Showing you examples, of course." "Lust is a sin." "Yes, indeed it is. My favorite one.”

LustInnocentAdam FaramondCharlotte And AdamCharlotte Greene
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“He watched her retreating form, his sinful mind fixating on her small, pleasantly rounded bottom, which had a wiggle that was definitely unintentional, but quite engaging. Apparently deeming it safe to come out again, his stallion, Petruchio, came out from hiding. The beast nudged Rothbury in the back, breaking his concentration. "I beg your pardon," he muttered to the horse. "I do not have the attention span of a butterfly when it comes to women.”

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Book:To Wed a Wicked Earl
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“Let's pretend for a moment that I find you attractive. Let's pretend that your very virtue is sorely threatened at this very moment." "Unlikely," she scoffed. His warm gaze dropped down to the hand that rested against his warm, bare skin. Then he looked up at her, his eyes showing an emotion she did not recognize. "I want you," he said, then swallowed hard. "And every time you are near me, your scent, your voice, seeps into my soul." "Oh my," she muttered with a giggle. "You're good at this. You almost sound as if you believe it yourself." "I do." Sighing, she supposed the only thing worse than being pursued by a sinfully attractive, manipulative rake, was having one for a friend. "Stop this, Rothbury. It's not funny." Feeling flushed, she looked down at her hand with a start, realizing she was still touching his chest. She retracted it quickly, then made a great show of studying the tip of her index finger, where a tiny dot of blood had beaded. A thorn had jabbed her earlier during her perilous climb. She hoped it would draw his attention and distract him. But it only made it worse. He covered her hand with his own in a movement that could only be called a caress. She swallowed. "Give me back my hand, you depraved hound." "Mine." Slowly, he drew her toward his mouth, lips parting slightly. Good Lord. Was he going to put her finger in his mouth? All her breath seemed to sink down to her knees, if such a ludicrous thing was possible. This had to stop. She thought to shove him away, only her muscles refused to respond. "Now, what would you do?" He leaned down, his lips parting, giving her a tiny glimpse of his tongue.”

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“Charlotte stood, her gaze instantly connecting with Rothbury's. A zing of awareness tingled down her spine. Dripping with sensuality, the earl stood with his back to the wall, his stance, as always, exuding a lazy confidence. The damp spring air in the crowded room caused his dark-blond locks to curl slightly where wisps had escaped the velvet queue secured behind his neck. He wore no costume, no mask, which of course wasn't required, therefore catching the eye of every warm-blooded female within a two-hundred-foot radius. It wasn't an exaggeration. The sighs of feminine appreciation surrounded Charlotte. Though she found it slightly ridiculous, she could not find it in herself to blame them. He was simply that fetching. His expertly cut dark gray coat hugged his broad shoulders, and his stark white cravat, frothy with elegant folds, emphasized his chiseled chin, gold with faint bristles. And his mouth- oh, that glorious mouth- both haughty and wicked, curving with his ever-present sagacious grin. Lord, what it must feel like to have those lips touch one's own. Charlotte gave an appreciative sigh, drinking up the sight of him. For a masquerade, his plain evening clothes on any other man would have lent him to fade into the background. But not Rothbury. Dear heavens, no. It only added to his sinful, blush-inducing appeal.”

SensualityMasculine BeautyAdam Faramond
Book:To Wed a Wicked Earl
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