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Elizabeth O'Roark

A Deal With The Devil: A Steamy Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

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Враження

  • Daniділиться враженням2 роки тому

    Cute a fluffy romanceeee

  • Лера Третьякділиться враженням2 роки тому
    👍Раджу
    💞Романтична
    🚀Неможливо відірватися
    😄Весела
    🐼Добра

  • WinterDamonділиться враженням4 роки тому
    💞Романтична
    🌴У відпустку
    🐼Добра

Цитати

  • Swati Dubeyцитує2 місяці тому
    sink into the pillow again. Who the hell sleeps this hard in a complete stranger’s home?
  • Lilyцитує2 роки тому
    wants something this much, and that the thing is me, is nothing short of a miracle. “Yes,” I finally whisper. His face breaks into a wide, relieved smile, and he tugs me against him.

    “You’re sure?” he asks. “You haven’t even seen the ring yet.”

    “It doesn’t matter what the ring looks like,” I reply.

    “Jonathan said the diamond was too big,” he says. “I suggested you quite like big things.”

    I laugh shakily. “Did you really just allude to your dick in a marriage proposal?”

    “You already said yes,” he says with a quick grin, as he pulls my mouth to his. “You can’t take it back.”

    I don’t plan to.

    THE END
  • Lilyцитує2 роки тому
    says, burying his face into my hair. “I wasn’t about to miss our first Christmas together.”

    “But how? You were still texting me from the airport two hours ago.”

    “Yes. I just didn’t mention the airport was in Dallas,” he says, “although I was sure your mother wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret.”

    “I missed you,” I tell him, laying my head against his chest. I squeeze him tighter, breathing in the smell of his soap and skin. I want him home and undressed. I wonder how much time we have before my family gets back.

    “This is pretty spectacular,” he says, nodding at the street stretched out before us. “A rather nice place to propose, even.”

    I freeze and pull back just enough to see if he’s joking. His eyes are earnest, a little worried. And then he reaches into the pocket of his coat and withdraws a black velvet box.

    He swallows. “I’ve never done this part before. I’m...surprisingly anxious.”

    His hair has fallen over his forehead. I reach up and brush it to the side. “I think you have nothing to worry about.”

    He catches my hand. “I’ve been in love with you, I think, since the day I saw you reading in the rain as you walked into work,” he says. He presses the box to my palm and covers it with his own. His eyes hold mine, and there’s urgency there, as if nothing in the world matters more than my answer. He swallows. “Marry me. Please marry me.”

    I want to tease him about the fact that he’s finally said please, but I can’t. That he

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