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Quote by Sarah MacLean

“He kissed her soundly, stealing her breath, before saying, "Tell me what you want, my lovely." "I-" She stopped, too many words coming at once. 'I want you to touch me. I want you to love me. I want you to show me the life that I have been missing.' She shook her head, uncertain. He smiled, pressing firmly with his hand against her, watching the wave of pleasure course through her. "Incredible," he whispered against the side of her neck. "So responsive. Go on..." "I want-" She sighed as he set his lips to the hardened peak of one breast again. "I want... I want you," she said, and, in that moment, the words, so utterly simple in the face of the roiling emotions that coursed through her, seemed enough. He moved his fingers firmly, deftly against her, and she gasped. "Do you want me here, Empress?" She closed her eyes in embarrassment, biting her lower lip. "Are you aching for me here?" She nodded. "Yes." "Poor, sweet love.”

Quote by Sarah MacLean

Work

Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake

This book explores the unconventional ways of engaging in romance, particularly with a rakish character, by suggesting rules to break in the pursuit of love. more

Author

Sarah MacLean
Sarah MacLean

Sarah MacLean, born on December 17, 1978, is a renowned American historical fiction author. Her works are set in 18th-century England and depict love, power, and adventure of that era. MacLean's novels have gained great popularity among readers and have won numerous literary awards. more

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“As I've said before," she scoffed, "you're different." "How am I different?" his exasperation was clear. "Well, it seems you are my partner in crime." She smiled then, a beaming grin not unlike the one he'd seen her give Oxford earlier. He lost his bluster at the words, feeling the full force of her pleasure like a blow, and a nonsensical wave of pride coursed through him... pride at being the one he would turn to with such excitement, pride at being the one she would turn to with such excitement, pride at being the one she would ask to escort her on such an adventure. And, in that sun-filled moment, with all of London mere inches away from their hiding place, he was struck by her beauty- her bright brown eyes and her hair, gleaming auburn in the light and her mouth, wide and welcoming and enough to bring a man to his knees. She was really quite extraordinary.”

“As I've said before," she scoffed, "you're different." "How am I different?" his exasperation was clear. "Well, it seems you are my partner in crime." She smiled then, a beaming grin not unlike the one he'd seen her give Oxford earlier. He lost his bluster at the words, feeling the full force of her pleasure like a blow, and a nonsensical wave of pride coursed through him... pride at being the one he would turn to with such excitement, pride at being the one she would ask to escort her on such an adventure. And, in that sun-filled moment, with all of London mere inches away from their hiding place, he was struck by her beauty- her bright brown eyes and her hair, gleaming auburn in the light and her mouth, wide and welcoming and enough to bring a man to his knees. She was really quite extraordinary.”

“What do you think of this?" he asked, indicating the painting nearby. She gave him an odd look. "I think it's an enormous painting of a dog." He made a show of considering the picture and nodded seriously. "An astute observation." She gave a short laugh before he continued. "The visual arts have never been my specialty. I prefer to consider myself a connoisseur of music. As you know." The last words were spoken softly near her ear. They were meant to fluster her, to remind her of the evening in his bedchamber... of their first kiss. The strategy worked, and Ralston couldn't help the pleasure that shot through him at the sound of her breath catching.”

“Shall I loose you from your cage?" The words, laden with sensual promise, weakened her. He was offering her all the adventure and excitement she'd ever wanted- the things she could not commit to her list, could not admit to herself, even in her most personal of moments. How could she refuse? She nodded her assent. It was all he needed. He slowly unraveled the long, linen bindings, pushing away her hands as she reached to help him. "No," he said, his voice full of promise and possessiveness, "you are my gift. I shall unwrap you.”

“Don't cry for me, Empress. I'm not worth it." "I'm not crying for you," she said, placing her hand against his cheek. "I'm crying for that little boy who never had a chance to believe in love. And for your father, who obviously never experienced it either. Because that was infatuation, not love. Love isn't one-sided and selfish. It is full and generous and life-altering in the best of ways. Love does not destroy, Gabriel. It creates.”

“Oh, my. Empress." His words pulled her from her thoughts. His gaze was locked upon her, taking in the beautiful silk lingerie, the delicate fabric that clung to her curves, hinting temptingly at what it hid. He reminded her of a wolf- hungry and eager to snare its prey- and her breath caught as his eyes met hers, desire rife within them.”

“You forget one of the most important tenets of London society." "Which is?" "Wealthy, unmarried marquesses are always welcome back into the light." He paused, letting one finger stroke slowly across her knuckles as he spoke softly in her ear. "And if I am not sure I want to exit the darkness?" A shiver pulsed down her spine at the words, more breath than sound. She cleared her throat delicately. "I am afraid it is too late.”