"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, Raven. You do not have a mean bone in your body, do you?" Raven looked indignant. "Of course I do. Don't smile like that, Mikhail, I really do. I can be just as mean if necessary. In any case, what has that to do with what we're talking about?" His hand moved upward to her rib cage beneath the thin silk of his shirt. "We are talking about me needing to protect the one person who matters to me, the one who can only see good in everyone." "I do not," she denied, shocked that he would think so. "I knew Margaret Summers was fanatical." His hand moved upward to caress the soft underside of her breast, to cup the weight of it in his palm. His eyes had gone black and deep with emotion. "You defended her, as I recall." He was taking her breath away with his absent, leisurely exploration of her body. It was more than physical; she felt him inside her, admiring her, even as he wanted to force her compliance to his will. She felt him in her body, stroking her mind, caressing her heart. She sensed his feelings for her growing and growing until they consumed him."