Her Game His Rules Quotes

Stop kidding me, angel! ~ Piper Shelly

If I weren't out of my mind at this second, I would've sworn he nuzzled my temple. ~ Piper Shelly

Then call me Pierce because we're friends." He bent in close in the turn, eyes gleaming as they dropped to her lips. "Intimate friends, if I get my wish."
This time there was no mistaking his meaning. But he was so practiced and smooth that she couldn't help herself-she laughed. When that made him frown, she tried to suppress her amusement, but that only made her laugh harder.
"What's so funny?" he muttered.
"I'm sorry," she said, swallowing her amusement. "It's just that I've heard my brothers make such insinuations to women in that tone of voice for years, but I've never been on the receiving end."
Pierce's smile would rival that of Casanova. "I don't know why not," he said in a lazy drawl. His gaze raked her appreciatively as they swirled about the room. "Tonight, in that purple gown, you look particularly fetching. The color suits you."
"Thank you." Minerva had been trying to get her to stop wearing browns and oranges for years, but Celia had always pooh-poohed her sister's opinions. It was only after Virginia had said exactly the same thing last month that she'd begun to think she should listen. And to order new gowns accordingly.
"You're a lovely woman with the figure of a Venus and a mouth that could make a man-"
"You can stop now." Her amusement vanished. She'd be flattered if he meant a single word, but clearly this was just a game to him. "I don't need the full rogue treatment, I assure you."
Interest sparked in his eyes. "Has ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Full of meal plans today. Lunch?"
"Sorry? Oh, yes. Apparently Magdelana remembered I'm an early riser." He slipped the date book he had on his desk into his pocket as he got to his feet. "We'll have lunch."
"So I heard. You're going to want to be careful there, pal."
"Of what?"
"It wouldn't be the first old friend you've had come around hoping you'd dip back into the game for old times' sake. You might want to remind her you're sleeping with a cop these days. ~ J.D. Robb

She was certain it had nothing to do with being close to such an attractive, masculine man and everything to do with her recent ordeal with the vampire. No mere man could make her weak in the knees.
Aidan settled beside her on the couch, as Stefan had acquired the leather recliner since she had abandoned it. Aidan's thigh brushed hers, sending a tremor rushing through her. His breath warmed her ear. "Fortunately, I am no mere man."
"Stop reading my mind, you ... you nightmare from a Thomas Ivan game." It was the worst insult she could think of, but he only laughed softly. The sound in her mind, not in her ear. ~ Christine Feehan

The nymph blinked out and reappeared directly in front of me. Impressive. Even I couldn't track its movement. "You're making a huge mistake."

Gods. Some nights just couldn't get any worse. "My entire existence is a mistake, so you're going to have to get a little more detailed about what exact mistake you're talking about."

The nymph's all-white eyes crackled little bolts of light. "Staying away from her won't save her."

Well, I was immediately proven wrong. Tonight was officially getting worse.

"And it won't save you either," the nymph added.

I barked out a harsh laugh. "There is no saving me. I know what the end game is."

"There is no such thing as finality," he replied, leaning in so when he spoke next, his cool breath moved over my jaw. "All prophecies are designed to be rewritten. No fate, no matter what is sacrificed or bargained, is final." He paused. "All the pieces are never shared. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

You're good at this," said Ronan.
"What?"
He leaned to touch the baby's head. "Being a mother."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Ronan looked awkward. Then he said glibly, "Nothing, if you don't like it." He glanced at Benix, Faris, and the others, but they were discussing thumbscrews and nooses. "It didn't mean anything. I take it back."
Kestrel set the baby on the grass next to Faris. "You cannot take it back."
"Just this once," he said, echoing her earlier words during the game.
She stood and walked away.
He followed. "Come, Kestrel. I spoke only the truth."
They had entered the shade of thickly grown laran trees, whose leaves were a bloody color. They would soon fall.
"It's not that I wouldn't want to have a child someday," Kestrel told Ronan.
Visibly relieved, he said, "Good. The empire needs new life."
It did. She knew this. As the Valorian empire stretched across the continent, it faced the problem of keeping what it had won. The solutions were military prowess and boosting the Valorian population, so the emperor prohibited any activities that unnecessarily endangered Valorian lives--like dueling and the bull-jumping games that used to mark coming-of-age ceremonies. Marriage became mandatory by the age of twenty for anyone who was not a soldier.
"It's just--" Kestrel tried again: "Ronan, I feel trapped. Between what my father wants and--"
He held up his hands in flat-palmed defense. "I am not trying ~ Marie Rutkoski

Sara watched in awe. As agile as the dealers in the club were, she had never seen any of them handle cards with such ease. That, coupled with his extraordinary mind for numbers, would make him an invincible opponent. "Why don't you ever play?" she asked. "I've never seen you in a casual game with Lord Raiford or your other friends. Is it because you know you would always win?"
Derek shrugged. "That's one reason," he said without conceit. "The other is that I don't enjoy it."
"You don't?"
"I never did."
"But how can you be so good at something and not enjoy it?"
"Now there's a question," he said, and laughed softly, setting aside the cards. Leading her to the hazard table, he took her by the hips and lifted her up. She sat on the edge of the table, her knees pushed apart as he stood between them. Derek leaned forward, his mouth a warm, gentle brand. "It's not like your writing, sweet. When you sit at your desk, you put your heart and mind into your work, and it gives you satisfaction. But cards are just patterns. Once you learn the patterns, it's automatic. You can't enjoy something if it doesn't demand a little of your heart."
Sara caressed his black hair. "Do I have a little of your heart? ~ Lisa Kleypas

I don't know when I can come back," he said. "The second you get tired of living in a smelly old surplus tent, I want you to come across town to my house." Mollie nodded and stepped closer. How safe she felt standing within the circle of his arms and laying her head against his chest, where she could hear the strong beating of his heart. "I heard it the first time you offered," she said with a smile in her voice. "And the fifth, and the tenth." He pinched her cheek. "Such a clever lass. I knew there was a reason I liked you." Why didn't she just leave with him? When she glanced over at the church, she saw Sophie reading the daily newssheet to Frank while Dr. Buchanan played a game of dice with the lumber merchant. "I'm not sure I can explain it," Mollie said, "but I feel bonded to these people. I can't leave to go live in the lap of luxury while they are all stranded here." "You can sleep in my root cellar if it would make you feel better. ~ Elizabeth Camden

Remember what the fashion big mouths were saying about Jessica Simpson? Looking at her magazine pictures, sucking their teeth, going, "Oh, look at her in her 'mom jeans.'" Know what? That is an unnecessarily cheap shot at her and kinda lousy to moms at the same time. Who the hell are they to say that? What gratification does it give them to be mean at someone's expense?
People made nasty comments like that about President Obama. They made an issue of his jeans when he threw out the first ball at the All-Star game in St. Louis. Why? Who was he bothering? Come on.
The tabloids, celebrity mags, and TV entertainment shows do fashion critiques all the time. But it's not about fashion, it's about trashin'. Their specialty is "Celebrity Cellulite!"--running unflattering pictures of stars at the beach and saying who should give up the bikini and go for the one-piece. And this is acceptable? This is a mark of journalism in a civil society, to take ambush pictures of people at the beach? And if the camera was turned around and pointed the other way, what would that look like? ~ Whoopi Goldberg

He shook his head pityingly. "This, more than anything else, is what I have never understood about your people. You can roll dice, and understand that the whole game may hinge on one turn of a die. You deal out cards, and say that all a man's fortune for the night may turn upon one hand. But a man's whole life, you sniff at, and say, what, this naught of a human, this fisherman, this carpenter, this thief, this cook, why, what can they do in the great wide world? And so you putter and sputter your lives away, like candles burning in a draft."
"Not all men are destined for greatness," I reminded him.
"Are you sure, Fitz? Are you sure? What good is a life lived as if it made no difference at all to the great life of the world? A sadder thing I cannot imagine. Why should not a mother say to herself, if I raise this child aright, if I love and care for her, she shall live a life that brings joy to those about her, and thus I have changed the world? Why should not the farmer that plants a seed say to his neighbor, this seed I plant today will feed someone, and that is how I change the world today?"
"This is philosophy, Fool. I have never had time to study such things."
"No, Fitz, this is life. And no one has time not to think of such things. Each creature in the world should consider this thing, every moment of the heart's beating. Otherwise, what is the point of arising each day? ~ Robin Hobb

Bianka," he said, his patience clearly waning. "This is not a game. Do not make me bind you to my bed."
"Ohhh, now that I like. Sounds kinky." She darted around him running her fingertips over his cheek, his neck. "You're as soft as a baby."
He sucked in a breath, stiffened. "Bianka."
"But better equipped."
"Bianka!"
She patted his butt. "Yes? ~ Gena Showalter

Until Miri could not help it any longer and she laughed out loud.
The sound broke the game. Peder looked at her. He reached out, and she thought he meant to grab her straw or perhaps yank her hair as he used to when they were little. But her put his hand behind her head and, leaning forward, pulled her face to his. He kissed her. One long, slow kiss. ~ Shannon Hale

That's my big problem. That's it! Before the Arrival,guys like Evan Walker never looked twice at me, much less shot wild game for me and washed my hair. They never grabbed me by the back of the neck like the airbrushed model on his mother's paperback,abs a-clenching, pecs a-popping. My eyes have never been looked into, or my chin raised to bring my lips within an inch of theirs. I was the girl in the background, the just-friend,or -worse- the friend of a just-friend, the you-sit-next-to-her-in-geometry-but-can't-remember-her-name girl. ~ Rick Yancey

No, don't do that! Marika, don't play that game with me." An unfamiliar chill took over his body, burning him from the inside out. "Otherwise we're just going to hurt each other." His clear eyes glowed like incandescent ice. "Don't ask me to give it all up unless that's really what you want, because I could do it for you." He knew that he could leave it all behind if that's what she asked of him. "Look at me!" He was offering her more than she had the right to expect. "Forget San Carlo for just one second and tell me what you feel."
She couldn't look him in the eyes and say goodbye. ~ Mirella Muffarotto

Ah, God, it was too sad and awful, the endless hide-and-go-seek game one played with the middle class.
If one could only be sure that one did not belong to it, that
one was finer, nobler, more aristocratic. The truth was, she
hated it shakily from above, not solidly from below, and her
proletarian sympathies constituted a sort of snub that she ad-
ministered to the middle class, just as a really smart woman will
outdress her friends by relentlessly underdressing them. Scratch
a socialist and you find a snob. The semantic test confirmed
this. In the Marxist language, your opponent was always a
"parvenu," an "upstart," an "adventurer," a politician was al-
ways "cheap," and an opportunist "vulgar." But the proletariat
did not talk in such terms; this was the tone of the F.F.V.
What the socialist movement did for a man was to allow him-
self the airs of a marquis without having either his title or his 
sanity questioned. ~ Mary McCarthy

I don't supposed you'd take on a new job as a nanny?"

"Live in?" he asked, "I'm not so sure. My grandmother's right next door. She might not approve of the arrangement. Or are we talking about another role-playing game?" He burrowed his chin between her shoulder and neck and whispered into her ear. "Because she wouldn't need to know about that. ~ Paula Altenburg

The situation with Jordan was starting to seem too real for his comfort. This normally would be the point when he, sensing a possible attachment, would back away from the situation. But with her, he was trapped. Consequently, all he could do was carry on as usual, being that guy who didn't let things become real, who was always handy with a quip but didn't have feelings deeper than that.

Because he didn't. Undercover agents didn't allow themselves to become attached to a case or anyone involved with it.

He wasn't complaining - he'd signed on for this. He'd worked hard to get where he was, and being the best undercover agent in the Chicago field office was a major accomplishment. It was his specialty, the thing that differentiated him from the other agents in the office. Without that distinction, he'd be just another guy with a badge, a gun, and cool facial scruff. Hell, he'd be Pallas.

That alone was more than enough motivation to get his head back in the game. ~ Julie James

So the ultimate winner in the game of business is not necessarily the person with the most power or the most money or the most fame. Rather it's the person who loves his or her work..... ~ Gail Evans

How You Doing, Little Lucy?" His bright tone and mild expression indicates we're playing a game we almost never play. It's a game called How You Doing? and it basically starts off like we don't hate each other. We act like normal colleagues who don't want to swirl their hands in each other's blood. It's disturbing.

"Great, thanks, Big Josh. How You Doing?"

"Super. Gonna go get coffee. Can I get you some tea?" He has his heavy black mug in his hand. I hate his mug.

I look down; my hand is already holding my red polka-dot mug. He'd spit in anything he made me. Does he think I'm crazy? "I think I'll join you."

We march purposefully toward the kitchen with identical footfalls, left, right, left, right, like prosecutors walking toward the camera in the opening credits of Law & Order. It requires me to almost double my stride. Colleagues break off conversations and look at us with speculative expressions. Joshua and I look at each other and bare our teeth. Time to act civil. Like executives.

"Ah-ha-ha," we say to each other genially at some pretend joke. "Ah-ha-ha."

We sweep around a corner. Annabelle turns from the photocopier and almost drops her papers. "What's happening?"

Joshua and I nod at her and continue striding, unified in our endless game of one-upmanship. My short striped dress flaps from the g-force.

"Mommy and Daddy love you very much, kids," Joshua says quietly so only I can h ~ Sally Thorne

That was when it dawned on her--Dom wanted to unearth her secrets. Nancy's secrets. Just as Jane had feared, he really had deduced that she hid some.
A shiver ran down her spine, and she jerked her gaze from him, fighting to hide her consternation. "Merely the same reason I gave you before. Nancy could be in trouble. And it's your duty as her brother-in-law to keep her safe."
"From what?" he demanded. "From whom? Is there more to this than you're saying?"
Ooh, the fact that he was so determined to unveil the truth about Nancy while hiding his former collusion with her scraped Jane raw. "I could ask the same of you," she said primly. "You're obviously holding something back. You have some reason for your determination to believe ill of Nancy. I wonder what that might be."
Two can play your game, Almighty Dom. Hah!
He was silent so long that she ventured a glance at him to find him looking rather discomfited. Good! It was about time.
"I am merely keeping an open mind about your cousin, which is more than I can say for you," Dom finally answered. "She isn't the woman you think she is."
"Because she wouldn't give in to your advances twelve years ago, you mean?" She would make him admit the truth about that night if it was the last thing she did! "Perhaps that's why you're determined to blacken her character. You're angry that she resisted you and married your brother instead."
"That's a lie!" When several people on the street turned to look ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Shogo looked at Shuya and Noriko. "The winner's forced to transfer to another school where he or she is ordered not to mention the game and is instructed instead to lead a normal life. That's all."
Shuya felt his chest well up inside and his face froze. He stared at Shogo and realized that Noriko was holding her breath.
Shogo said, "I was a student in Third Year Class C, Second District, Kobe, Hyogo Prefecture." He added, "I survived the Program held in Hyogo Prefecture last year. ~ Koushun Takami

A better man wouldn't play this 'sweethearts' game with her when he knew very well it couldn't lead to more.

But he wasn't a better man. He was Colin Sandhurst, reckless, incorrigible rogue - and damn it, he couldn't resist. He wanted to amuse her, spoil her, feed her sweets and delicacies. Steal a kiss or two, when she wasn't expecting it. He wanted to be a besotted young buck squiring his girl around the fair.

In other words, he wanted to live honestly. Just for the day. ~ Tessa Dare

CJ's peace was restored.
Momentarily.
"Oh shit shit shit," a woman said. Her voice rippled with the kind of panic CJ expected from the bride today, but her husky undertones were too low for her to be any of his female relatives.
Perhaps the confessional hadn't been a gift from God after all.
"If that's what you need to do, but not right now, please," CJ said.
Her shriek splintered his last hopes for peace. "Ohmigod!" his intruder gasped.
"Not generally, but hey, if that's what you want to call me, I'm game. ~ Jamie Farrell

I told her I was going to the dance with you instead."
Violet thought her heart was going to burst. It was exactly what she'd wanted to hear for weeks, maybe even for months. But she wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily for his devious little game. "Sorry," she offered with mock sincerity. "I have a date already. Besides, I don't remember you asking me."
He narrowed his eyes at her, as if daring her to argue the point. "I'm your date. Grady can go to hell, for all I care. Maybe Lissie'll go with him and he can paw on her all night."
They were nose to nose, and mouth to mouth. Violet was intrigued by this side of him...the confident, no-nonsense side, refusing to take no for an answer. She leaned forward and sighed as her lips barely brushed against his. "Fine," she exhaled in sham defeat. "I'll go to the dance with you...on one condition."
His lips moved into a smile right against hers. "Anything."
She gazed into his eyes as she licked her lips, purposely touching his lower lip with her tongue. That simple contact released a million nervous butterflies within the pit of her stomach. "Tell me what you and my dad were talking about. ~ Kimberly Derting

When Bump didn't go, the ump put some bite in his voice: "Son - go. Now." That sent Bump packing, but it wasn't good enough for Lily. She comes stomping off the mound jabbing her finger at Bump: "Yeah - yer outta here! Back to the bench, ya dumb meatball!" And now the ump points to Lily and goes, "And you too, miss. Your game is over." As Lily steamed off to the bench, I actually fell on my back, I was laughing so hard. In ~ Jerry Spinelli

Damn your eyes, Justin Blade; you've the luck of the devil."
"Sore losers, those MacGregors," Shelby sighed, sliding her gaze to Alan's.
"We'll see if the Campbells can do any better.New blood," Alan announced from the doorway.
Smoke hung in the air,the rich, fragrant sting of expensive tobacco. They were using Daniel's huge old desk as a table, with chairs pulled up to it. The three men looked over as Shelby and Serena walked in.
"I don't like taking my wife's money," Justin commented,sending her a grin as he clamped a cigar between his teeth.
"You won't have the opportunity of trying." Serena lowered herself to the arm of his chair with a quiet sigh. "Shelby'd like a game or two."
"A Campbell!" Daniel rubbed his hands together. "Aye then,we'll see how the wind blows now.Have a chair,lass. Three raise, ten-dollar limit, jacks or better to open."
"If you think you're going to make up your losses on me, MacGregor," Shelby said mildly as she took her seat, "you're mistaken."
Daniel made a sound of appreciation. "Deal the cards, boy," he ordered Caine. "Deal the cards. ~ Nora Roberts

What did she say?" asked Matthias.
Nina coughed and took his arm, leading him away. "She said you're a very nice fellow, and a credit to the Fjerdan race. Ooh, look, blini! I haven't had proper blini in forever."
"That word she used: babink," he said. "You've called me that before. What does it mean?"
Nina directed her attention to a stack of paper-thin buttered pancakes. "It means sweetie pie."
"Nina - "
"Barbarian."
"I was just asking, there's no need to name-call."
"No, babink means barbarian." Matthias' gaze snapped back to the old woman, his glower returning to full force. Nina grabbed his arm. It was like trying to hold on to a boulder. "She wasn't insulting you! I swear!"
"Barbarian isn't an insult?" he asked, voice rising.
"No. Well, yes. But not in this context. She wanted to know if you'd like to play Princess and Barbarian."
"It's a game?"
"Not exactly."
"Then what is it?"
Nina couldn't believe she was actually going to attempt to explain this. As they continued up the street, she said, "In Ravka, there's a popular series of stories about, um, a brave Fjerdan warrior - "
"Really?" Matthias asked. "He's the hero?"
"In a manner of speaking. He kidnaps a Ravkan princess - "
"That would never happen."
"In the story it does, and" - she cleared her throat - "they spend a long time getting to know each other. In his cave."
"He lives in a cave?"
"It's a very nice cave. Furs. Jewe ~ Leigh Bardugo

Abby folded her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. She tried to be careful, but it hurt regardless. It wasn't pain that made Neil go still, but uncertainty. The only people who'd ever hugged Neil were his teammates, and those were quick squeezes throughout a good game. His mother had pulled him close before, but usually it was when they were sidestepping curious eyes and she wanted to shield him with her body. She'd never held him like he was something to be sheltered. She'd always been hard. She'd been fierce and unbreakable until the end. ~ Nora Sakavic

OMG Danita, it's hopeless out here, I moaned while we sat watching her son's football game. I did not want to laugh, but he looked so cute struggling to run up the field bearing his weight in equipment. As he worked on his Heisman's highlight reel, the
cheerleaders, including his sister Nia, shook their pom-poms as if casting
out demons. ~ LaToya Hankins

Back to the subject at hand." Finn's gaze fell on Selena's bow. "Tell me you hadn't ever planned to kill us in this game."

"Of course she had," I said in a low voice. "You heard her. First we take out Death, then all bets are off."

Gazing around wildly, Finn opened his mouth and closed it. Open, closed. "You guys are humming my balls, right?"

Everyone frowned at him.

"Gargling my marbles? Screwing with me?" His eyes looked frantic. "Tell me, Selena!"

"I can't believe I gave you food and shelter," he told Selena. "I even gave you my last Snickers bar! Might've been the last one on earth. ~ Kresley Cole

The creative side of the female operates imperceptibly: its province is the potential man. When its play is unrestricted the level of the race is raised. One can always gauge the level of a period by the status of its womankind. Something more than freedom and opportunity are here involved because Woman's true nature never expressed itself in demands. Like water, woman always finds her own level. And like water also, she mirrors faithfully all that passes in the soul of man. What is called truly feminine therefore is only the deceptive masquerade which the uncreative male blindly accepts as the real show. It is the flattering substitute which the thwarted female offers in self-defense. It is the homosexual game which Narcissus exacts. It is most flagrantly revealed when the partners are extremely masculine and feminine. It can be mimicked most successfully in the shadow play of the avowed homosexuals. It reaches its blind culmination in the Don Juan. Here the pursuit of the unattainable reaches the burlesk proportions of a Chaplinesque pursuit. The end is always the same: Narcissus drowning in his own image. ~ Henry Miller

You don't have to call me that, you know," she said, brushing her hair back from her shoulders. "There was a time when you called me Winter."

He leaned his elbows on the enclosure wall. "There was also a time when I could come visit you without feeling like I was supposed to toss bread crumbs to earn your favor."

"Bread crumbs? Do I look like a goose?"

He tilted his head to the side. "You don't look like an arctic wolf, either, but that's what the plaque tells me I'm looking at."

Winter leaned back on her hands. "I will not play fetch," she said, "but I might howl if you ask nicely."

He grinned. "I've heard your howl. It's not very wolf-like, either."

"I've been practicing."

"You won't bite me if I come in there, will you?"

"I make no guarantees."

Jacin hopped over the rail and came to sit beside her. She raised an eyebrow. "You don't look like an arctic wolf, either."

"I also don't howl." He considered. "Though I might play fetch, depending on the prize."

"The prize is another game of fetch."

"You drive a hard bargain. ~ Marissa Meyer

In my opinion, no young player can develop his or her game to its highest potential if he or she rides around the course in a golf cart. ~ Harvey Penick

By the time I got down there, Bird was standing to the left of the backstop, near the warm-up area, smiling at Brandon. It was obvious he was trying not to get caught smiling at her, that he was supposed to focus on the game.
I scooted over until I was standing behind the dugout. Jason was still messing with his gloves. I was surprised the Velcro still worked, that it hadn't worn down until all the tiny sticky teeth were gone.
"Hey, Jason," I said. "Awesome no-hitter."
I was vaguely aware of someone gasping and someone else moaning, as Jason came up off the bench fast, spun around, and stared at me like I'd morphed into something from The X-Files.
The guy who'd gasped, Chase, put one knee on the bench, so he could talk to me in a low voice and still be heard. "You'd better go."
"Why? What did I do?"
"You never talk to the pitcher when…" He shook his head. "You just never talk to the pitcher when--"
"I just wanted to congratulate him on a good game--"
"It's not over 'til it's over," Chase said.
"You jinxed me," Jason said, crouching down in the corner, pressing his palms against his forehead, like he'd been struck with a migraine headache. ~ Rachel Hawthorne

...what struck me the most was my father's total immersion in not only her disease but her quest to get well. That is, as long as Laura was game, he was willing to explore every single option and provide every last bit of support that he could. Moreover, he did so by blurring conventional understandings of medical specialties and medication options, crafting a unique plan of treatment culled from his vast clinical knowledge and that of his peers. It is impossible to know the exact impact of my father's ministrations on Laura's survival, but I would like to think she knew that she was receiving all the expertise and comfort that was humanly available to her. ~ Barron H. Lerner

After Evie had finished her plate, Sebastian tugged her to the billiards table and handed her a cue stick with a leather tip. Ignoring her attempts to refuse him, he proceeded to instruct her in the basics of the game. "Don't try to claim this is too scandalous for you," he told her with mock severity. "After running off with me to Gretna Green, nothing is beyond you. Certainly not one little billiards game. Bend over the table."
She complied awkwardly, flushing as she felt him lean over her, his body forming an exciting masculine cage as his hands arranged hers on the cue stick. "Now," she heard him say, "curl your index finger around the tip of the shaft. That's right. Don't grip so tightly, sweet…let your hand relax. Perfect." His head was close to hers, the light scent of sandalwood cologne rising from his warm skin. "Try to imagine a path between the cue ball - that's the white one - and the colored ball. You'll want to strike right about there" - he pointed to a place just above center on the cue ball - "to send the object ball into the side pocket. It's a straight-on shot, you see? Lower your head a bit. Draw the cue stick back and try to strike in a smooth motion."
Attempting the shot, Evie felt the tip of the cue stick fail to make proper contact with the white ball, sending it spinning clumsily off to the side of the table.
"A miscue," Sebastian remarked, deftly catching the cue ball in his hand and repositioning it. "Whenever that happens, reach f ~ Lisa Kleypas

You, it's about bedroom eyes. Fuckin' great hair. Long legs. A tight, sweet pussy that gets so fuckin' wet, swear to Christ, every time I have it, don't know whether to bury my face or my dick in it. Your perfume on my sheets. The way you look at me when I tuck you in bed, like I gave you diamonds, something precious, something you wanna keep safe, something you want forever. Woman like you could get diamonds just crookin' her finger, so a woman like you shouldn't find a man tuckin' you in bed precious. But you do. It's also about you tellin' me you won't take it there with me but, I kiss you, you ignite. Some men like a game. Others like a challenge." His smile got wider. "You found a man who likes a challenge. ~ Kristen Ashley

He lay there and felt something and then her hand holding him and searching lower and he helped with his hands and then lay back in the dark and did not think at all and only felt the weight and the strangeness inside and she said, "Now you can't tell who is who can you?"
"No."
"You are changing," she said. "Oh you are. You are. Yes you are and you're my girl Catherine. Will you change and be my girl and let me take you?"
"You're Catherine."
"No. I'm Peter. You're my wonderful Catherine. You're my beautiful lovely Catherine. You were so good to change. Oh thank you, Catherine, so much. Please understand. Please know and understand. I'm going to make love to you forever. ~ Ernest Hemingway,

Don't allow yourself to waste that chance. Don't succumb to any…distractions."
I could only imagine my expression. Miss Swanston lowered her candy-red lashes and glanced back at Armand.
"Oh," I said, swallowing. "No. Definitely not."
"Forgive me. He seems quite taken with you."
The bite of roll lodged in my throat; I coughed. "He isn't, I assure you."
"Eleanore, it grieves me to correct you, but he is staring at you even now. He hasn't been able to tear his eyes from you since we arrived."
I couldn't tell her the truth. I couldn't say anything like, Armand doesn't count. Armand's not even in the game. I'm in love with a boy made of stars, and we're going to live together ever after on gold and smoke and moonlight, and that's my happy future, no matter what any of you think.
I scowled down at my plate. "He's simply…"
"Yes?" she prompted, very mild.
I searched for the right word. "I don't know what he is," I admitted finally, frustrated. "Bored, I suppose."
"Yes," she said again, just as mild. "I'm glad you've realized it, too."
"But I'm not dense. He's nobility. I know-I know what I am. I know what to avoid."
"Good," Miss Swanston said once more, and gave me her wistful smile. ~ Shana Abe

That wasn't necessary," Benix told Kestrel.
"It was," she said. "He's tiresome. I don't mind taking his money, but I cannot take his company."
"You couldn't spare a thought for me before chasing him away? Maybe I would like a chance to win his gold."
"Lord Irex can spare it," Ronan added.
"Well, I don't like poor losers," said Kestrel. "That's why I play with you two."
Benix groaned.
"She's a fiend," Ronan agreed cheerfully.
"Then why do you play with her?"
"I enjoy losing to Kestrel. I will give anything she will take."
"While I live in hope to one day win," Benix said, and gave Kestrel's hand a friendly pat.
"Yes, yes," Kestrel said. "You are both fine flatterers. Now ante up."
"We lack a fourth player," Benix pointed out. Bite and Sting was played in pairs or fours.
Despite herself, Kestrel looked at Arin standing not too far away, considering the garden or the house beyond it. From his position he would have had a view of Irex's tiles, and Ronan's. He would not, however, have been able to see hers. She wondered what he had made of the game--if he had bothered to follow it.
Perhaps feeling her gaze on him, Arin glanced her way. His eyes were calm, uninterested. She could read nothing in them.
"I suppose our game is over then," she told the two lords in a bright voice. "Shall we join the others?"
Ronan poured the gold into her purse and slipped its velvet strap over her wrist, unnecessarily fiddling ~ Marie Rutkoski