I want your hands on my head.” I nod and edge back to make room for him. “Does it calm your racing thoughts?” He shakes his head, then takes my hand and spreads it open over his wide chest, his voice textured as he traps my gaze with his. “It calms me here.

Why won't you take me, Remington?" He groans and pulls me closer. "Because I want you too much".

Remington Tate, I swear to you—I swear—that when I’m able to get up from this stupid bed and run again, you’re always, always, going to be the one thing I’ll run straight to.

I feel claimed and bonded to him like animals do. I feel like I've already been caught and trapped and he's merely priming me, leaving me to simmer in my juices, anxiously waiting for the moment when he takes his first bite of me.

At least if I keep my love a secret, he and I can still have this wonderful, odd, exciting relationship where I love him in silence and pretend he's loving me in silence too.

I've fallen in love a hundred times in my life! But never like you. So I wonder if I really fell or just tripped, you know?

God, I want to die in you.