We are also creatures of romance. Books love to portray us as the mysterious visitor in the night that you invite into your bedroom and then your bed.

We are also creatures of romance. Books love to portray us as the mysterious visitor in the night that you invite into your bedroom and then your bed.

Isabelle Rowan
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All I'm saying is that there is more to life than the main story. Check out the notes in the margins because maybe they're even more important.

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What exactly is it you want?

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Even when it wasn’t visible, Dominic could smell the newly broken skin. It sent a wave of hunger through him, but he ignored it. Not tonight; tonight was for other pleasures.

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We are also creatures of romance. Books love to portray us as the mysterious visitor in the night that you invite into your bedroom and then your bed.

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... Hoping like hell she was wrong about Dominic, and he was just a secretive man with a strange skin disorder.

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Get past the hard-on, and you could feel him. I mean really feel him.

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This is just a phase, right? This whole bloodlust thing?

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Leaning his forehead against Michael's, Dominic admitted, "I didn't dance then. I think I was waiting for you.

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