There was no sign of Jules. “Bad news,” said Elliot. “The man is sick. You’re going to have to settle for me.” “Sick?” Vee demanded. “How sick? What kind of excuse is sick?” “Sick as in it’s coming out both ends.” Vee scrunched her nose. “Too much information.

I had fun last night," I told Patch, flicking off my chin strap and handing over my helmet. "I'm officially on love with your sheets." "That the only thing you're in love with?" "Nope. Your mattress, too." Some smile crept into Patch's eyes. "My bed's an open invitation.

I held out my hot dog, which had grown cold. “Do you want this?” “No way. You’re going to need it. If anything bad happens, just take a bite. Ten seconds later, you’ll feel all warm and happy inside.

My history is long, and not much of it is good. I can't erase it, but I'm determined not to make another mistake. Not when the stakes are high, not when it comes to you.

He tasted deeper, holding himself over me, and suddenly he was everywhere; his knee trapping my leg, his lips grazing warm, rough, sensuous. He splayed his hand at the small of my back, holding me tightly, driving me to sink my fingers deeper into him, clinging to him as if letting go would mean losing part of myself.

In the end, the only thing between us was silence.

You think the two of us and a slummy motel make for a dangerous combination?