“He sat on a kitchen chair and lifted her onto his lap so her legs straddled his, and then he slipped his hands under her skirt and cupped her backside to drag her closer. Oh f**k. Good news and bad news.The good news was no underwear.The bad news was no underwear.”

“He had no desire to talk, or move. So he sat, with her still straddling his lap, in no hurry to leave, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, which he tightened around her, slipping his hands under the bottom of her sweater to warm them. They fit together like two distinct halves purposely manufactured to become one seamless whole, a feeling he wouldn’t soon forget.”

“Stay away from Marcus. He's f**kin' bad news with a capital F**k.”

“All of her news was bad and so her talk was punctuated with "of course" and "naturally.”

“He didn't answer. Instead he cupped her face in his hands and drew her towards him. Then he kissed her lightly on the lips. Oh god, she wanted his head between her legs and she wanted it now.”

“There was something not quite right about her eagerness, an eerie kind of voyeurism in her need for bad news.”