“The rum transpired from the wound of a perfectly baked cake. By the piercing shining 'touch of crave' 'Crave for the touch'.” — Fathima Fabeela Copy Share Image
“I’m not sure what he means. “What am I doing?” “You’re making me fall so hard for you that my head is… — M.S. Force Copy Share Image
He knew he had no right to touch her, crave her like air, but he did both. And when he put his… — Jill Shalvis Copy Share Image
