The perfect mate can give you the big O with a single touch. He can make you feel sexy, delicious, and totally kick ass. No, wait, that’s ice cream. Never mind.

Don’t go to the bears! It’s like Poltergeist all over again. Don’t go into the fur-lined light!

Yeah, he’s evil with a capitol ass and lowercase hat.

We all have scars. Some on the outside and some on the inside.” Another shrug. “But we have them.” “Where are yours?” Kira gave him a rueful smile. “Both.” That was not the answer he wanted. Though it was one he should have expected.

She was a ball of “do me now.” Twice. Ten times if he had the stamina and lube.

Fuckyou-ish?” “The English dialect of the ancient language ‘fuckyou.’ Very old. Dignified even.

She did not engage in kiddie play and if a guy asked her “who’s your daddy” she typically told them he lived in Chicago and would he like her father’s number.

Duress, my ass. You wanted to climb Declan like a tree. Hell, better yet, you wanted to eat him like a birthday cake.” Harper pointed at her, eyes narrowed. “With butter. Cream. Icing.

Despite being only pounds in his hedgie form, he was all male baby.

God she needed this, needed the touch of a man who wanted her exactly as she was.