Can 'Hold You To That' Be A Romantic Gesture?

He looked at me, his piercing eyes cold and sharp. “What do you want?” he asked, his tone irritated. “Cat got your tongue?” Fear gripped me, but I couldn’t back down. Not when proving my love was on the line. My hands trembled, but I managed to speak. “Hunter Steele...” I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “Will you... will you marry me?” His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly. “What?” ANYA BLAKE ____________________________________ I can’t remember the last time I willingly let a woman get so close. To me, they were a necessary evil....useful when needed, and avoided afterward. But when a young woman, trembling yet determined, stepped in front of me and asked the most ridiculous question I’d ever been asked, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years: a spark. And when I kissed her, it awakened something in me—a feeling I hadn’t known existed. Her innocence intrigued me and I wanted to be the one to claim her, to mold her......to make her mine. HUNTER STEELE

*You want me to fuck you, i know you do* PRETEND YOU MINE. "I'm not your girl, Ethan." I snapped instantly. "You were during that kiss, Brynne." Eyes flickering, he read me, and then he inhaled. I was a damp mess between my legs, and I wondered if he could smell me. "You smell so good... and fucking sexy." Sweet Jesus! His thumb rubbed over my collarbone where his hand still rested on my neck. And I did absolutely nothing to stop him. I was enjoying the view too much. I'd tousled his hair from the mauling with my hands. He still looked gorgeous and probably did even when he crawled out of bed in the mornings. Bed. Was there a bed in our immediate future? It would take next to nothing on my part to get this man into bed. I didn't have to be a genius to know he wanted sex. The real question here was did I want it? "Ethan." I pushed against the wall of steel that was his body and got nowhere. "Why are you doing this? Why are you acting this way to me?" "Don't know. I can't stay away and I'm not acting. I tried to leave you alone but I can't do it." He feathered his other hand over my hair and down until it was resting on the other side of my neck. "I don't want to stay away from you." He rubbed slow erotic circles with his thumbs meeting at the middle of my throat. "You want me too, Brynne, I know you do."

When I got up from Ted Wiley's bed, he lazily handed me my underwear. "I'm changing the door code, so don't come by unless it's urgent." I froze, blurting out, "Why?" He grinned. "She said yes to being my girlfriend yesterday. I can't have her spotting you here—she'd flip. It took me forever to win her over."

SLOANE HOLBROOK is a thirty-five-year-old copywriter whose only commitment is to sarcasm, but every major holiday turns her into a single, pitiful spectacle for her judgmental family. Her solution? JACKSON, a charming, commitment-phobic Australian golf coach who needs a distraction just as badly as she does. They forge the "Holidate Pact" a year-long contract to be each other’s flawless, platonic plus-ones for every major event, with one rigid rule: zero feelings. But when a New Year's Eve kiss designed for public consumption feels startlingly real, Sloane and Jackson realize surviving the holiday calendar is easy; surviving the relentless, rule-breaking, undeniable attraction might be impossible. They signed up for a cynical transaction, but what happens when their fake relationship becomes the most honest thing in their lives?

Manhattan was doing that thing again twinkling like it had all the answers, when really it just had expensive lighting. Alexander Knight leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse, seventy-five floors up, watching the city hum below him. Bourbon in one hand (mostly untouched), phone in the other. The merger docs stared back at him from the screen, but the part that actually kept him up at night wasn’t the billions on the line. It was the fine print from the Japanese investors: “Family stability preferred.” Translation: get a wife, look settled, or watch the whole deal slip away. He exhaled, fogging the window for a second before it cleared. His assistant had already sent over a neat little list of “suitable” women—discreet, polished, zero drama. Women who understood arrangements. He hadn’t even opened the attachments. Because something about the whole thing felt… hollow. His gaze drifted down, past the grid of lights, to the tiny café on the corner. Golden glow spilling onto the sidewalk, handwritten sign in the window: Local Artist Pop-Up – One Night Only. A woman stood in front of a canvas, head tilted, paint-smudged shirt slipping off one shoulder. She was talking to someone out of view, laughing softly, then stepped back to study her work like it had personally offended her. She glanced up—straight toward his building, straight at him somehow, even though there was no way she could see him up here. But for a split second, their eyes locked across the impossible distance. But right then, with the whole damn city glittering between them, he had this ridiculous, unshakable thought: She’s the one I’m going to ask. And hell help them both when she says yes.

Lilly Mae Graham wants nothing more than to graduate high school with her best friend and her boyfriend. However, when her brother found himself in debt to a dangerous criminal, she must seek the help of someone even more deadly. Little did she know that her simple life would get turned upside down, becoming one filled with pain, sex, violence and danger. Killian Black has watched Lilly from the shadows for five years, protecting her quietly and silently craving her, biding his time until he's ready to make her his. However, as luck would have it, his sexy little redhead vixen brought herself to him, offering him a deal that he just couldn't refuse. Unfortunately, keeping Lilly means exposing his weakness to his enemies. But what his enemies don't know, is Killian would set the world ablaze and watch it burn if anyone touches one strand of Lilly perfect red hair.