I do not care about you anymore, but that is only when I am around people. The fact is I hide my emotions very well.

I don't want a girl who only feels comfortable in either a temple or a discotheque. She has to be both, the saint and the sinner!

Edward chuckled into her mouth.
“Like that, do you?” he murmured. “So do I.”

Edward kissed her for the first time in months without that hazy veil between them. And this kiss was so different, so pure and undiluted, that it jolted through him like a bolt of lightning. Arrowing through his chest and heart and straight to his groin. Suddenly, Edward wanted her. All of her, desperately, right now. He didn’t want to comfort, or be comforted. He wanted to possess.

Morgan closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right,” she sighed, “We should probably wait.”
Owen drew back, and she could feel him studying her. She waited as long as she could stand it before she opened her eyes and grinned. He chuckled, low in his throat, a predatory gleam in his eye.

“Not a chance,” he muttered, closing in.

Owen folded his arms around Morgan to steady her when she crashed into him, and was enveloped by her scent, her warm softness. When she gave a scared little scream, he tightened his arms in a protective reflex. She fit him perfectly, he noted distractedly. And she was soaked: he'd seen her come in from the rain, her expression frantic, just as he had rushed in the front door. His shirt was plastered to his chest between them.

"Hi Honey, I'm home," he breathed, astounded to be holding her at last.