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So there’s an . . . an etiquette to raking. Some seducer’s code of honor. Is this what you’re telling me?

Tessa Dare

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Tessa Dare
Raking
Etiquette
Code
Telling
Honor
Seducer

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He laughed. A strained, ha, ha, ha, I may die of this laugh.
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How is it you’ve never married?” A soft splash. “It’s an easy enough thing. Every morning I wake up, go about my day, and return to bed at night without having recited marriage vows. After several years, I have the trick of it down.
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He kissed her. Without warning, without permission. Without even deciding to do it, but simply because he couldn't have done anything else. He needed that breath she was holding. It belonged to him, and he wanted it back.
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Cleverness is like rouge - liberal application makes a woman look common and desperate. Wit is knowing how to apply it.
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I know how mirrors work. They're all in league with the cosmetics trade. They tell a woman lies. Drawing her gaze from one imagined flaw to another, until all she sees is a constellation of imperfections. If you could get outside yourself, borrow my eyes for just an instant... There is only beauty.
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Forgive me, Your Grace. Are you suggesting a woman is some sort of … piece of fruit to you? One squeeze, and you know if she’s ripe?
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What is the world coming to, with these modern women? A man can't tell them what to do.
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Amazing, then, how with that one remark, he made a mortifying situation thirteen times worse.
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After spending all of her girlhood fervently wishing she could run away from home— she’d actually done it.
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