EXTRACT FOR
Lovers & Ropes
(Daisy Rose)

His perfectly shaped eyebrow arched together with a corner of his lips. He towered over her, a tall statue of a man, sculpted to perfection. There was nothing about him that any sane artist would change. Yet, there was something about him that she wanted to change. Something to make him less perfect; something to give her an excuse to dislike him.



"Perhaps you would like to know about me before asking me out?" she asked. "I'm quite infamous around these parts, you know," she divulged magnanimously. It didn't matter if he was the hottest man on earth. The truth was, she wasn't looking to date anyone. Not now. Not anytime soon.



He pondered for a moment, a low 'hmm...' that vibrated in the air, as if considering the option. Ultimately, he grinned and shook his head. "No," he said with an air of finality that took her breath away. "I would prefer knowing you. The real you."



And just like that, she knew. She knew in her heart that this was a man who could wrench her heart from her ribs in his palm and squeeze it until it stops beating.



She took a shuddering inhale. "Perhaps I would prefer you not," she responded, also full of conviction, because her heart could not take another beating.



"Not what?" he asked, his smile genuine.



Her mind spun and just like that, it was hard to breathe. "I would prefer you not know me at all," she answered without blinking, eyes wide with something she wasn't quite prepared to feel. Her heartbeat sped up without her permission and she leaned against the wall for support.



"Wouldn't you like to know me?" he asked, full of questions she hadn't the answers to.



She stared at the confident man in front of her and shook her head. "No. I would not," she said.



When she turned to walk away, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back until she was flush against his chest, all hard muscles.



"Give an old man a chance," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin, spreading into warm butterfly flutters in her belly.



"You're hardly an old man," she breathed, her breasts inches from his body, each inhale bringing her aching nipples dangerously close to touching him. His gaze burned, intense eyes dilated as he stared into her mesmerized look.



"How old are you?" he asked.



"Twenty two," she answered automatically.



"I'm forty," he grinned, unabashed about his age. "Old enough to be your father."



"Then perhaps you should stay away," a painfully familiar voice interrupted. She didn't need to turn around to know the owner of the voice. It haunted her countless sleepless nights and tickled her naked skin in the showers. It made her tremble with both desire and the need to run away.



Like a ghost, he was there, the man who had broken her heart into so many pieces years ago.



His expression was angry as he walked forward into her view, dressed in dark slacks and a shirt underneath a dark jacket. Everything about him was as perfect as she remembered.



"Anastasia," he said her name like a caress. It wove through her, creating patterns of desire on her skin. She couldn't move as he stood close to her, stopping just inches from her. His gaze penetrated through her. "I was hoping to see you here."