“What kind of understanding?" he murmured almost absently, his mind clearly on other, more provocative things. The trace of amusement in his voice irritated her, as if he were merely humoring her. Savannah pushed at the solid wall of his… — Christine Feehan Copy Share Image
“Even so, the two of us look memorable in these clothes. And your shirt is transparent. I don’t think I can take a bunch… — Christine Feehan Copy Share Image
“Sleep deeply, the sleep of our people, chosen one of my sister,that you will heal completely and wake refreshed and in full strength.” — Christine Feehan Copy Share Image
“Savannah came to him instantly, her face lit up with some emotion he dared not name.She was in a man's silk shirt and nothing… — Christine Feehan Copy Share Image
The real question is, can you love the real me? Not the perfect person you want me to be, not that image you had… — Christine Feehan Copy Share Image
“At her tender age she was incapable of understanding such a history,” — Christine Feehan Copy Share Image
He felt safe with her. He'd never been safe with another human being, not since he'd been taken as a child from his home.… — Christine Feehan Copy Share Image
“Before anything else, I need your trust. Your absolute trust in me--and yourself. You have to know you are the only woman I will… — Christine Feehan Copy Share Image
“He kissed her with everything he was. Man. Beast. Killer. Biker. Hers. Every cell in his body belonged to her.” — Christine Feehan Copy Share Image
“Her body clenched with hot desire, and without thinking she bathed Jacques’ mind in her heat. She saw his body hunch, as if someone… — Christine Feehan Copy Share Image
“Climb back up here. We’re going to have to jump.” She stated it so calmly he almost didn’t comprehend. His head snapped around. “Are… — Christine Feehan Copy Share Image
“ You really know how to stir up the hornets’ nest with the women, do you not? Mikhail demanded, even though he understood Gregori… — Christine Feehan Copy Share Image
Everyone knows ladies love Cajuns. It's in our blood and our language is the language of romance." "Your language is the language of bullshit.… — Christine Feehan Copy Share Image
