He walked right to her, his long strides eating the space between them and sucking the oxygen in front of her

You taste like mine.

Eyes locked, they stared. She felt bleeding pain down to her soul.

I want us to be more spontaneous. I want the superhero to come home and take me. Nothing to do with being his wife. Everything to do with uncontrollable testosterone.

He didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. Tingles exploded down her neck, shooting toward her navel.

You’re gorgeous. You’re sexy. You’re … asking me to cut that dress off you? I’m praying for strength.