Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

“Would you be willing to take a lie detector test?"
"I’m afraid not," he said. "It goes against my religion."
His brow furrowed. "How?"
"Only God can judge me...”
― J.M. Darhower, Redemption

“I don't want just bits and pieces of you that I can steal away. I told you—you're worth more than being someone's secret."
"Yeah, well, it's not really a secret anymore," she declared.
"I know it isn't."
She groaned. "Then what, Corrado? What do you want?"
His strong hands cupped both of her cheeks as he leaned down toward her. He stared into her eyes, drinking in the devotion she—for some godforsaken reason—felt toward him. "I'm a greedy man, Celia. I want everything.”
― J.M. Darhower, Made

“A blush tinged her bronzed skin as she wrapped her arms around herself. Corrado grasped her wrists, pulling her hands away when she tried to shield herself. He stared at her, stunned to see the uncertainty in her eyes.
"You're not nervous this time, are you?" he asked, half-teasingly, half honestly wanting to know. She'd been so confident, unwavering before.
"It's the way you're looking at me."
"How am I looking at you?"
"Like you look at the Taj Mahal. Or the Sistine Chapel. You're staring at me like you stare at the Mona Lisa."
"I've never seen those things."
"It's like you've never seen something so beautiful before."
"I haven’t.”
― J.M. Darhower, Made

“He'd never seen anything so downright beautiful. A sense of peace fell over him, calming him, pacifying the always-tense nerves inside of him, and soothing his very soul. He wanted to take that moment, to capture it, and keep it forever.”
― J.M. Darhower, Made

“Please," she pleaded again, hands roaming his back, nails scraping his skin. "More." He pushed into her slowly, sinking every inch of himself inside again. "Like that?" "Harder," she demanded. "Fuck me, Corrado.”
― J.M. Darhower, Made

“He opened his eyes and scanned her face, trying to find any sign of distress, but he there was none. Excitement, he realized as she opened her eyes and bit down on her bottom lip, as if she were fighting to contain it all inside of her.
The blood furiously pumping through his system cleansed away every ounce of hesitation. Despite what he'd said to her, despite his warnings about what type of man he truly was, she offered herself to him. She was giving herself to him, all of her, and it was a gift he was more than happy to receive.
'Everything,' he'd said. He wanted everything.
And now he would take it.”
― J.M. Darhower, Made

“The sensation of being inside of her, their bodies connected, sent a chill down Corrado's spine that rivaled only the thrill he got from hearing her whimper and moan. He did that. He caused that. His hands—hands that roamed her flushed skin, hands that cupped her warm cheeks as he kissed her deeply—didn't just cause pain. Those hands didn't just brutalize. They were capable of pleasure, too, pleasure reserved for her.”
― J.M. Darhower, Made

“Smiling, Celia leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him. She pulled back, pressing her hand flat against his chest. His heart thumped erratically against her palm.
"You're wrong about yourself," she said seriously. "You said you were heartless, but that's not true. I can feel it, Corrado. It's in there. And as long as it's beating, I know it's there, working overtime, and you'll never convince me otherwise.”
― J.M. Darhower, Made

“After one last kiss, she stepped away, wrapping his jacket tightly around her. "I'm keeping the coat."
"Okay."
"I'm going to wear it to bed."
"Okay."
"With nothing on underneath it."
Winking, she slipped inside, leaving him on the porch with that mental image ringing through his head.”
― J.M. Darhower, Made