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“You understand the secret part of me that craves adventure. You push me to be better. You have faith in me. When you listen, you really listen. When you look at me, you really see me." "I'm the best." He gave a satisfied growl and unbuttoned the rest of my shirt. "Very best," I agreed as he lifted me and propped me on the desk, facing the chair with my skirt bunched around my waist. "You love me." "I do." He sat in the chair facing me and slowly slid my panties over my hips. "What are you doing?" I could barely hear my own words for the pounding of my pulse in my ears as he eased me back on the desk. "We're going to play show-and-tell." His hands found my thighs and he spread me wide.”

Quote by Sara Desai

Book:'Til Heist Do Us Part
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'Til Heist Do Us Part

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Sara Desai

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“With her left thigh draped over his right hip, he pleasured her at a more leisurely pace. She closed her eyes and let him love her. Before long, however, he had stoked her fire until it blazed again. She pressed him onto his back and, looking intrigued with the possibilities, sat astride him; he never left her body. Victorious atop him, she appeared to savor this position---and her newfound power over him. There was no denying it. At the moment, he was hers, body and soul, whether she knew it or not. Whether he was quite ready for that or not. He was sure as hell not ready to admit it. "Rohan," she murmured, "why haven't we been doing this all the time that I've been here?" He gave her a licentious half smile. "I was trying to convince you that I was a gentleman," he replied, his low tone roughened by desire. She smiled at his irreverent answer and dragged her dainty fingers down his chest. "What would I want with a gentleman when I could have a Beast?”

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“Her drawers were pushed to her ankles, and his mouth wandered upward, his breath like puffs of steam against the tender skin of her leg. Evie made a low keening sound as he parted the private curls curls between her thighs. The two fingers he slipped inside her were immediately clasped and caressed, her inner muscles working as if to draw him deeper. Evie's eyes half closed, and a passion-blush swept over her body in uneven drifts of pink. "Sebastian." "Shhh..." His fingers pushed higher, and his mouth nudged past the swollen folds of her sex. He teased the straining little peak, licking in a sly counter-rhythm to the gentle thrust of his fingers. Evie arched against the door, her throat aching from the effort not to cry out. He did not pause or relent, did not allow her a single moment to catch her breath, only stroked and tormented her hot, twitching flesh, driving the sensation higher and higher until at last she choked back a scream and shuddered with rapture. His mouth stayed on her, drawing out every last ripple of fulfillment until she was finally still, her weary flesh emptied of sensation.”

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“Claire… It is not what you think. Won’t you please allow me to explain? Please. Allow me to speak with you.” It was more tempting than she liked. “There is nothing to say. We both know what I saw.” She paused. “Now go away.” Her tone was as aloof as she could manage between tears that would not stop. She saw the handle turn. “Don’t you dare!” She took a pre-emptive step back. But he did dare. The door opened slowly. “Are you…dressed?” “Of course, I am dressed!” she said furiously. “I am packing. Kindly have a carriage ordered.” It was a lie but he would not know that. Her case was still open on the window seat. He pushed the door open wider. He did not look like a man who had come from the arms of another woman. His face was not flushed with desire. It looked rather drawn in fact. But what did she know of such things? Perhaps that woman had merely exhausted him. “I did not invite her here, Claire. I did not even know she was coming.” He pushed locks of dark hair from his eyes. Claire bit her lip, thinking of how she had looked forward to touching those waves, brushing it possessively off his face herself. “Serafina does what she pleases. As you can see, she has no sense of propriety or discretion. She believes she owns Isabel and I even still. Even though, after her unforgiveable actions, she quite thoroughly relinquished rights to us both some time ago. I do not believe Isabel has pardoned her yet. I certainly will not.” He looked at her, eyes wide and beseeching. Not a hint of pride or arrogance. “She does not want me to be happy without her, Claire,” he said softly. “She must have found out I was to be married and she came with all haste. This is exactly what she was hoping for—or nearly so. When you walked in…” “Oh? Nearly so?” Fury twisted inside her. “I apologize for intruding so unexpectedly, for interrupting your passionate liaison. I suppose if Isabel and I had not walked in, you would still be there even now. On the floor together perhaps.” Thomas looked taken aback, then angry. “Of course not! Do you really think me so…? Is that what you believe, Claire? You did exactly what Serafina hoped you would do. Reacted with anger and jealousy, blamed me, and stormed out.” “Jealousy!” Claire exclaimed, drawing herself up. “I assure you—I am not jealous in the least. If she wants you, she is welcome to have you. I did not want you in the first place, as you will recall.” He flinched. If she did not know better, she might almost have believed him to be hurt. She swallowed hard. “What have I to be jealous of? The fact that you prefer your mistress to…” Oh, no. Her voice was catching in her throat. “…to… me…” She hiccupped embarrassingly, tears flowing over. All of a sudden Thomas’s arms were around her, holding her firmly to his chest. “Claire… No, no…” he whispered. Her cheek was pressed up rather roughly against his tailcoat. He smelled so good. She closed her eyes, her body relaxing against him. There was another smell there. An overpoweringly sweet scent of lilacs. She pushed herself away, hands against his chest. “You smell of her.” He looked horrified. Horrified that he did? Or horrified that she had noticed? Did he smell of her from head to toe? Claire felt nauseous.”

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“Randrup ... wrote me in an email, 'the ideal is to face a situation with courage, mete out justice while expecting it from others, show mercy as you'd expect others to, be generous without regret, have faith in humanity, show nobility in adversity, have hope for the future, and have the strength to do it all over again the next time.' 196”

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“Park went to the usual dispensary line, feeling the absence of Keller as if she had lost her favorite coat. She felt cold, uneasy, vulnerable. The domestic android, Megex, seemed to notice her discomfort from behind the counter and said, “Would you like a juice bulb?” “Thank you,” Park said gratefully as the brown-haired android placed it on her tray.”

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