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.

..."Good, because I need your help." "Help is my middle name." I was pretty sure she'd already told me bad was her middle name, but I kept my opinion to myself.

Try it on." "It's probably a little snug," I said, suddenly feeling conspicuous. "Marcie tends to buy down when it comes to sizing." He merely smiled. "It has a slit up the thigh." His smile deepened.

If we hooked up, he could write me ballads and stuff. You gotta admit, nothing's sexier than a guy who writes music.

Wow. Nice bike,” I said. Which was a lie. It looked like a glossy black death trap.

It will cost me a lot to send you with Scott wearing that dress but, just so you know: if you come with that dress slightly wrinkled,I will trace Scott, and when I find him, it's not gonna be pretty

I saw you, and I wanted to be close to you. I wanted you to let me in. I wanted to know you in a way no one else did. I wanted you, all of you.