Make your choice and accept the consequences.

...she could only wait for someone, something, to free her from the invisible chains that bound her.

One can't help but marvel at the variety of ways that women had devised to make us look like flaming idiots.

...just a little touches her and there. He puts his hands on your arms or back, he stands close to you, getting you used to him... it's a mating ritual. Like March of the Penguins.

I scowled defensively. "My conversations don't usually include the subject of erections." "Too bad," he said. "All the best conversations do.

I love you enough for the both of us. And there must be something about me worth loving. If you would just try.

Fear you?" she said without thinking. "Good God, I would never do that." Easing her head back, Westcliff looked at her while a slow smile spread across his face. "No, you wouldn't," he agreed. "You'd spit in the devil's eye if it suited you.