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Quote by Julie Anne Long

“And then a masculine voice drawled virtually into her scalp, fluttering her hair and causing gooseflesh to sweep up her arms. "Do you think it's fair that you have seen every inch of me, and I have seen none of you?" Oh no, oh no, oh no. Her heart had recovered. It was now drilling away inside her chest like a woodpecker. The warmth of the man's body behind her was as penetrating as a sunbeam, though not one bit of him actually touched her---she pressed herself closer to the oak tree, to make bloody sure of that. But his scent immobilized her as surely as a net: sun-heated skin and the faintest tang of sweat, and something else, something rich and complicated and fundamental that started a primal buzz of recognition in her blood and made her peculiarly aware of how very female she happened to be. This wasn't the groomed-for-a-ball brew of starch and soap with which she was familiar. This was stripped-to-the-essence male.”

Quote by Julie Anne Long

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Beauty and the Spy

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Julie Anne Long

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“Jack kept track of the triplets while she slipped on his jacket. It was large, roomy, and scented with his maleness. All earthy and musk. The bottom leather edge fell mid-thigh and, once zipped, held down her polka dots. His body warmth embraced her, chasing away the chill and further indignity. Grateful, she smiled and mouthed, Thank you. He spoke low. "We've denied the wind the big reveal." We, as in he and she. Together. A lusty gust pressed his gray cotton T-shirt to his chest. Etching his firm pecs and six-pack. The man was built. "You won't get cold?" she asked. "I've plenty of heat, Peep." That he did. She was feeling overheated herself. Not only from the jacket but from his nearness.”

“It was apparent Jake had taken a hot shower. The air was scented with amber and musk. Enticingly male. She spotted him when he turned away from the sink and cut her a look, sharp with surprise. He was a heart-stopper. He stood nearly nude. A knotted towel hung low on his hip bones. The gap near his groin was shadowed. Neither managed a word. Silence held between them. Engulfing and immodest. She dared to stare. His masculinity merged with the mist. Her gaze flicked over his damp hair, hard face, and thick-muscled chest. Alpha and carnal. All slickened sexiness and raw strength. His legs were long and strong. His feet big and bare. A sigh escaped, low and throaty. She sagged against the doorframe. A dead giveaway that she liked what she saw--- a little too much. She was so into him that she twitched when he said, "Are you flashing me, Hannah? Bra and pretty pink panties.”

“Are you going to frisk me?" he asked when I stepped in close to measure the width of his shoulders. He smelled of pine and leather and the fresh ocean breeze--- wild and free. "This is a custom tailor shop, not a police station." "I might have a dangerous weapon in my pocket," he teased. I pulled the measuring tape tight under his arms, reminding myself that I was a professional. I was totally unaffected by the rock-hard pecs that flexed under my hands or the fact that I was now so close, I could feel the heat of his body. It was disconcertingly intimate. I'd measured many clients over the years for my dad and not once had I ever felt like I needed an immediate date with my vibrator.”

“Welcome to the world of haute cuisine, sweetheart." Her breath catches in her throat. Sweetheart. She knows he's being sarcastic, but the word echoes around inside her skull and makes her feel so terribly strange. Tingly. Oddly warm. Her heart picks up in pace and her skin burns like soft fire. A tiny voice in the back of her head craves to hear him say it again. Alexander leans forward, officially leaving no space between them. They're so close that all it would take is for Eden to tilt her chin up just so for their lips to touch. "Here's what's going to happen," he says, tone low and smooth. He smells like peppermint toothpaste and clean laundry, hints of hazelnuts and vanilla lingering just beneath the surface. "Chef?" she mumbles, mesmerized by the warmth radiating off of his body.”

“It was like a hand had turned the volume way down on the hum of anxiety that always buzzed in my head. He was all calm competence. He knew what to do, and he'd tell me how in that dark-brown-sugar voice, and I could just be. I slowly followed his instructions. He leaned in and I got a whiff of white soap and pine forest. "Closer," he said softly. "Cut closer." He could whisper in my ear, he was that near. His scarred lower lip so close to my skin.”

“It felt easy, natural, unthinking, but the thrill--- there was the proof it was a first kiss, the first kiss, as if she had never kissed or been kissed properly by anyone before. Every sense was heightened in a swirl of pleasure; the woodsy smell of his skin, the bittersweet Campari on his tongue, the warm envelopment of his presence even as he touched only her lips and her elbow, the sight of fireworks behind closed eyes, and the sound of the world falling silent. A cyclone of sensation overloading her system, and the two of them, alone together in the eye of a beautiful storm.”