“Kid, Søren could eat you for breakfast and not even need to chew. Don’t ever fuck with a sadist, Wesley. For Søren, torture’s just foreplay.”“Why did you stay with him?” he’d whispered.Nora had grinned at him, and she saw a new fear in Wesley’s sweet brown eyes.“I like foreplay.”

“When Søren touched her she became his. When Wesley touched her, she became herself.”

“Piss me off again and I'll rip you a new asshole and then fuck it. And that's just the foreplay.”

“He needed no foreplay for the interview, and I was grateful. It's like sweet-talking your date when you both know you're about to get laid.”

“Don’t mind us,” Mack called. “They probably don’t get a lot of foreplay in hospital waiting rooms. You’re breakin’ the monotony of tears and tantrums. “Mack!” Carrie hissed. “Tate just kissed her, that’s hardly foreplay.”“You weren’t watchin’ close enough, honey. That was definitely foreplay.”

“Sad-looking brown eyes, they wrenched his heart like a gut punch. Worse – hell, worse – a bloke could punch him in the head but he’d stay up, and grin through the bloody split lip, intimidating his attacker; but there was no honour in wounds inside, wounds that only you could deal with.”