Excerpt from The Marrying Kind

     Libby—this isn't a game. Do you understand what you're asking for, looking the way you do in that dress, saying the things you're saying? Do you understand what you're doing to me at all?"
     Her pulse beat a rapid tattoo against her throat and she found it almost impossible to breathe, but Libby didn't hesitate with her answer. "I think," she murmured softly, "that maybe I do."
     "You don't give a man much of a chance to behave himself, do you." It wasn't a question. Donovan raised her up higher and tighter in his embrace, leaving just the tips of her toes beneath her for support. His arms rigid ropes of steel, his thighs and other parts of him, hot and hard where he pressed against her legs and belly, he caught her chin in one hand and forced her to look directly into his eyes.
     "Just exactly what is it you want from me?" Donovan asked, his voice no longer harsh, but thick and husky. "And this time, be sure you say exactly what you mean. Be very, very sure."
     All of your love, all of you, is what she caught herself thinking, but Libby still had barely enough control left to keep from vocalizing the thought. She almost said, "Nothing," because she knew he would never be hers, not even for one night if she were to ask for more than a few moments in his arms. But she couldn't keep from testing him just a little. Speaking in a breathless whisper, she asked, "What if I were to ask for... your soul?"
     Surprising her, Donovan uttered a short bitter laugh. "We wouldn't have a problem. I don't have one."
     The moment the last word was out, his mouth came down on hers, and in that moment, Libby felt as if she had everything she'd ever need right here in her arms.
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