“Go away. I told you, I'm not interested."She looked from his lap to his face."Your nose is growing too.”

“Nose to nose with her, he gave her his best bad dog snarl. "You've forgotten who and what you're dealing with here, princess. So let me jar your memory. I'm not on your father's short list of men you can bring home to dinner. I'm not a nice man. So if all you're looking for is sex...just keep this up and you're liable to get it. And don't expect some polite little in-and-out and 'oh darling, that was lovely.' You come to my bed, I'm going to fuck you, and there won't be anything polite about it.”

“Okay,” he said, his breath hitching, his hands shaking like hell as he pried her arms from around his neck and set her away.Deep breath. Another. "Okay. Just...um. Okay. Christ. Christ, Darcy, I want you so bad I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you.”

“Which is your bad shoulder?"His brows knit together. "The left," he said carefully.She slugged him in the right.He staggered. Steadied himself. Grinned. "Is that like some weird Wyoming mating ritual thing I should know about?""Damn you," she cried, flying into his arms. Finally. "Damn you, damn you, damn you!"He wrapped his arms around her, held her tight. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was such a coward.”

“Hey, Tink," Reed called to his wife. He'd given up on the poker game and was cradling the little pink handle that was Mariah Savage in his arms. "Look how cute she is. I think I want one. S'pose we can stop by Walmart and pick up one just like her.?" Chrystal glanced up from her cards and gave her husband a look. "Three o'clock feedings. Smelly diapers. Responsability." "Oh. Right. I'd have to grow up.”

“She dug around in her bag, found what she was looking for, and brought the little stuffed dog back to bed with her. Childish, yeah. She didn't care. He was soft and cuddly-unlike Jones-and she had a need for soft and cuddly right now. She'd like to meet a woman who could breeze through a shotgun blast and not need something to hold on to. Even if it was just an old stuffed pup.(...)She swallowed hard,then caught her breath when he opened his eyes, turned his head on the pillow toward her. He searched her face in the dark."Come here," he whispered.When she hesitated, he reached for her. "The dog can come, too.”

“Bastards have pissed me off," Reed snarled, out of breath, as he backed into the open armory door. "They hit me in the face."Lang grabbed Reed's jaw, turned his face toward him. "It's just a scratch."It's just my fucking face," Reed sputtered. "It needs to look good on a book jacket when I write my memoirs someday.”