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He wanted to give me a blade? What's wrong with that?” “Blades,” he whispered, “and sheaths go together. And your sheath will only ever hold my blade.
Nalini Singh
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Nalini Singh
Age: 79
Born: 1945
Born: February 17
Author
Journalist
Writer
Hold
Wrong
Give
Together
Ever
Sheath
Wanted
Blade
Giving
Blades
Whispered
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Stay with me. I’ll show you things that’ll make you laugh in delight, scream in passion, cry for the sheer joy of it.
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There's not much left inside me, Max Sometimes, all she heard were echoes.
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She stepped out of reach. “Go put on a shirt and get your mind out of bed.” “Impossible with you around.” “Pretend I’m holding a rifle. In fact, pretend I have you in the crosshairs.” Janvier sighed, rubbing at a jaw shadowed by morning stubble. “I love it when you talk dirty.
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Dropping her hand, she turned in his arms. Then, rising up on tiptoe, she cupped his face in her palms and drew him down. Her kiss was innocent, vulnerable, a caress so gentle that it made him her slave between one breath and the next.
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A life is not a waste of time
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Push me and I will. I’ll get punished, but you’ll still be dead.
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As an example of wealth, good taste, and subtle intimidation, it took first prize.
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Remember that,” he groaned. “And tell everyone you know.
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She dumped me for the quarterback after she'd played my body like a banjo. So Sad. I bet I'm serious. I was heartbroken. For how long? A whole week. An eternity in the life of a teenage boy.
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Why is it”—she shivered as he kissed the top of her spine, went lower—“that I always end up naked while you remain dressed?” A husky masculine chuckle, his lips moving over her shoulder, his hands on her hips. “Because I'm a smart man.
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You're not a restful individual to be around Ashaya to Dorian
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Bluebell, you couldn’t take me if I was blindfolded and had both hands tied behind my back.” “Bluebell?” Illium narrowed his eyes. “That’s it, Barbarian.
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Raphael's pleasure, his kiss, sent her over a second time....and it wasn't until they both stirred again that Raphael reached down and undid the strap of her knife sheath, putting it and the knife on the bedside table. Beautiful as this sheath is, he said, touching the leather, I much prefer the one which holds my blade.
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Your name is written on my heart, Lily
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Pack is built on the bonds of family, of mating, of love. You come first. You always will.
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So decisive, he murmured in that calm tone that had adrenaline flooding her body, the primitive part of her brain conscious she was in the presence of a predator. Got your eye on someone? She didn‘t know what made her say it. No. But I have no plans to die a virgin.
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