"I want to defile you, destroy you, corrupt you in the most sinfully beautiful way. Break you until you're completely mine." "And then?" "Then I'll piece you back together, of course." He took another step in her direction, closing the distance between them. "Love can be holy." He said but the look in his eyes promised anything but. "It can be kind and gentle. It can be the flutter inside your chest when you feel someone touch you, the blush staining your cheeks when someone brushes his knuckles over them." To prove his point further, he took his knuckles and brushed them over her sharp jawline, all the way to her lightly dusted cheeks and sharp cheekbones. "However, love can also be vile. Dark and all-consuming. The kind of love that makes you want to fall to your knees and let it destroy you." He let his palm rest on her soft skin and felt the warmth she provided so carelessly travel to him. "That's all I can offer you." Nathaniel Russ is a man devoid of passion. Cold, stern, a tragedy with skin. A wreckage just seconds before the crash. A writer. He spends countless hours teaching philosophy at the local university, waiting for something to make the words crawl out of him with the same vigorous appetite they once did. And he finds it, at the most unexpected moment. Guinevere Westbrook is a woman haunted by the sins of her past. And she just happens to be the muse he had been waiting for, even though she refuses to accept it. So, he orchestrates a game meant for two. A game. That's all it was. Until it wasn't. Adult themes, proceed with caution. All images belong to their respective owners. Source: Pinterest.