She'd read somewhere that normal, healthy men got up to twenty erections a day. Um...yep, Ares was definitely healthy.

Horror Hotel, as wraith called Shade's house. "Vampires, demons, and werewolves check in... and then they make out, and-

The pretty nurse had just injected her with something that totally rocked, and if she wanted to think about boinking a bronzed, tattooed, impossibly handsome doctor who was so far out of her league she need a telescope to see him, then screw it. Screw him. Over and over.

Wraith held up his hands. "Chill, Gramps. I don't want to sit on your knee or anything.

No bra,” he said against her mouth. “Thank you. I hate those things. Dumbest human invention. Ever.

His voice was low and rough … “What about you? Do you like bad boys?” “There’s definitely appeal,” she breathed. “Good,” He bent and clipped her earlobe with his teeth … “Because they don’t come badder than me.

I didn't see any furry little James Bonds.