It was as if the very shadows connected them and she could feel his emotions.
It was at home, when she was alone with herself, the way she'd been her entire life, that she was lost. She had no purpose. No focus. No center to balance her. Now, this man, Vittorio Ferraro, an amaz...
It was strange, that feeling of freedom, as if by tying her, he released her spirit--beaten down, so encased in the beliefs of others, what was right, what was wrong, what she was-- so that she could...
It wasn't about a women's weight, it was about who they were, if that brightness shone through their eyes and skin and hair. Ricco found beauty in art. Women were a form of art. All shapes and sizes....
It wasn't her looks that caught his interest or made him stand utterly still. It was her shadow. The sun was throwing light perfectly to create tall, full shadows. Hers leaked long tentacles. Thin. Li...
Just once, even if it wasn't real she wanted to feel as if a man saw only her. No one else. For those moments, she was his world. His canvas. He saw beauty in her.
Looking into Ricco's eyes, she knew she was safe with him. She felt safe. More she felt free.
Marry me, be my wife. Be my partner. Take the risk with me. I need you in a way I've never needed anything or anyone. He was giving himself up to her. He'd never felt more vulnerable. Never felt more...
Mine. He nearly spat the word. Telling her. Wanting that word branded into her bones. Wanting his name carved deep into her soul. She. Was. 'His'. His everything.
My grandfather was in love with my grandmother. They were inseparable. They detested being apart. I've seen real love. I've felt it when I was with them. They died three hours apart. My grandmother fi...
Now there was Grace. An unexpected gift. She was far more than he'd ever fantasized about. She was courageous and beautiful. Intelligent and no pushover.
Once he had told her he wanted her to stay, she'd been lost in the wonder of that. No one ever wanted her. No one.
Once he was set on a task, once he made up his mind, he was relentless.
Poetry in motion, she murmured under her breath. She'd heard that expression, but now she knew what it meant, how the words could come alive with a man moving.
Say yes, Francesca. I didn't think it was possible to feel anything real for a woman. I just couldn't. I tried, but nothing was there. I knew I was capable of loving because I love my sister and broth...
She belonged to Stefano. With Stefano. She felt the others moving closer, taking her back. She belonged to the Ferraro Family, and no one fucked with a Ferraro.
She cleared her throat. I dont like that sort of thing. [...] What sort of thing? His gaze dropped to her mouth. Held there. [...]The F-word sort of thing. She blurted it out, saying the first thing t...
She could be soft and sensitive. He'd provide the armor for her.
She didn't tell him, but his voice alone could seduce her. Having his hand on her was beyond exciting. Exhilarating. She wanted more. She wanted to feel as if she belonged to him.
She didn't think she had anything to offer him. He got that. She had no money, no family, nothing at all in her eyes. Yet she gave him this magnificent gift - her and her trust, when she had no reason...
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