“It's a long story that involves copious quantities of alcohol and Lolita.”

“Is there any point in asking what you're going to do to me?"He grinned wickedly. "Not really."Fabulous."Does it involve the use of a safe word?""That will depend entirely on you.”

“How long do you want me?" he asked.How long can I have you? I thought.”

“I’ll walk forever with stories inside me that the people I love the most can never hear.”

“Lolita,” he said, turning my book over in his hands. His eyes widened over the pink-lipped mouth on the cover, then handed it to me. Our fingers brushed, and a warm current coursed through them. My heart thundered so loud he could probably hear it.“So,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “You’re a smuthound with daddy issues?” The corner of his mouth turned up in a slow, condescending smile.I wanted to smack it off his face. “Well, you’re quoting it. And incorrectly, by the way. So what does that make you?”His half-smile morphed into a whole grin. “Oh, I’m definitely a smuthound with daddy issues.”

“But my favorite half-smile appeared on his mouth. I wanted to live in it. "How long do you want me?" he asked.How long can I have you? I thought.”

“They lie, you know. It's not easier to ask for forgiveness. Not even a little.”