“Mr. Ryan was going to have my ass. I was twenty minutes late. As I experienced this morning, he hated late. "Late" was a word not found in the Bennett Ryan Dickhead Dictionary. Along with "heart," "kindness," "compassion," "lunch break," or "thank you.”

“I realized my room was just next to hers.It was a mirror image of her room, but completely different in all of the ways that couldn't be seen. This shower hadn't washed away our pretenses last night; we hadn't slept together, curled around each other in this bed. These walls hadn't been filled with the sounds of her coming apart beneath me. This desk wasn't broken from a late-morning quickie.”

“This flirting is all well and good, but I mean it when I tell you, I cant have you leaving me again. It almost broke me."My ribs seemed to squeeze all of the air out of my lungs at the thought. "I don't think I could. I don't want to be away from you again either.""But you need to give me a chance to fix things when I screw up. You know I'm an ass sometimes.""Sometimes?"Growling, he whispered, "And I tear lingerie."I pushed a curl off his forehead, "And hoard it. Don't forget the creepy hoarding.”

“I don't want to walk out that door and lose what we found in this room."His simple words rocked me. He wasn't declaring, he wasn't promising, but he said exactly what I'd needed to hear. We might not know what was happening, but we wouldn't leave it unfinished.”

“Totally serious. I want to be the only guy who fucks you against windows, and also the first person you see in the morning-from where you lie, having stolen my pillow. I'd also like to be the person who gets you lime Popsicles when you've had bad sushi. We only have a few months left where it's potentially complicated.”

“I'd never wanted to consume another body as rabidly as I did when he was inside me, but even like this, I could never seem to get close enough to the parts of him I wanted to feel. And it was with that thought in my mind that the delicious ratcheting tension along my skin and in my belly crystallized into an ache so heavy I slipped my legs off his shoulders, pulling all of his weight on top of me and pleading, "Please, please, please," over and over.”

“You have very Grace Kelly-like tendencies about you. I hear Grace Kelly had a filthy mouth too," he added. "You love my filthy mouth.""True. But I like it better when its full," he said, meaningful smirk in place. "You know, if you would shut up once in a while you'd be damn near perfect.""But I'd be a silent panty ripper, which I think is a lot creepier than the angry-boss panty ripper.”