I realized that I'd rather die with you than live with someone else.

I want you, Kaylee, like I’ve never wanted anything. Ever. I want the fire. I want the heat, and the light, and I want the burn.

In the end, it only comes down to one thing: choosing the one you can’t live without.

I was no suffragette, but I was pretty sure the he-can’t-control-himself defense was a big, stinky load of horseshit.

What if I was the sexual equivalent of popcorn? Suitable for light snacking only?

I laughed and it almost felt good. "Is that a dig at my liquor cabinet?" Cam smiled. "That wasn't liquor, it was swill. And that wasn't a cabinet, it was a drawer.

Pain is what I feed from when nothing else will nourish the noxious fury in my heart. It’s what I cling to when everything else—everyone else—slips right between my grasping fingers.