“Mick was always the right kind of dirty. Windblown, fresh off his bike, wrapped in tattoo and leather. Muscles all the hell over the place. The man was a serious piece of eye candy. Thinking about ...”

“Leather and tattoos, they were his cover, and she wondered what shed find when she unwrapped him.”

“Leather and tattoos, they were his cover, and she wondered what she’d find when she unwrapped him.”

“She’d pay good money for an up-close-and-personal tour of the tattoos that made him look like a badass biker.”

“...she would have walked all the way up to East Sixty-Third Street, and probably 163rd Street, if it meant pouring even more into this memory that wasn't a memory.”

“Yes, look at him," Marisol said. "Sleeping in a hammock, waking before the sunrise to take care of poor people. He is so terrible.”

“...she would have walked all the way up to East Sixty-Third Street, and probably 163rd Street, if it meant pouring even more into this memory that wasn't a memory.”

“Im in, especially if theres a bad guy. Do I get to hurt a bad guy?”

“He was silent a moment; then he said, "I want a drink of water." She almost laughed aloud, because it was such a mundane request that could have been made of anyone, but then she saw the tension in...”

“Calmly, deliberately, he moved his hands down to her breasts and molded his fingers over them. Jay inhaled sharply, and he said, "Easy, easy," as he stroked the soft mounds. "Steve, no." But her ey...”