Maddy pressed her fingers to her lips, a smile blooming there. The man could kiss like the devil. Hot, passionate, demanding. Holy hell. Ronan McGuire was a force of nature, and equally dangerous.

His father had been in the military and so had his grandfather. It was a natural fit when Ronan and his brothers each donned a uniform of some kind.

He tipped his head to Ronan and looked warily at Bowser. "Sir.""David, this is Ronan McGuire and his partner, Bowser, " Maddy said. "They're two of New York's finest.

She wanted him, but she didn't want to want him.

Silence hung between them, and Maddy's heartbeat picked up. She probably should have played it cool, but why bother? She wanted him.

You were the one girl I wanted who wanted nothing to do with me.

Tell me what you want, Mads.""You, " she said in a shaky whisper. "I want you, Ronan.

I want you to let go. Just close your eyes and feel me. Don't think. Don't try to control it. All you have to do... is feel.

Ronan tightened his grip before leaning over and whispering, "Do you have any idea how much I want you?

Weren't you the guy who said he'd settle for one woman when hell froze over?""I did say that, didn't I?""Yeah, a bunch of times, " Gavin's smile faded.

Ronan cupped her neck with his other hand and brushed his lips lightly over hers. "I want you, Maddy. I want you more than I've ever wanted any woman in my life.

Pink! My color! My love!

We are content with the 'given' in sensation's quest. We have been metamorphosised from a mad body dancing on hillsides to a pair of eyes staring in the dark.

Graffiti writers will never stop. They'll just evolve. It's interesting what ideas people come up with and how it all extends forward.

There's no such thing as a good or bad culture, it's either a strong or weak culture. And a good culture for somebody else may not be a good culture for you.

There are only two kinds of certain knowledge: Awareness of our own existence and the truths of mathematics.

If you don't read the newspaper, you're uninformed. If you read the newspaper, you're mis-informed.

But I think it's always difficult when a product that you're using and accustomed to changes.

Here is the boy, drowning.

I'm gonna hump ya. Like Deputy Dog... Would hump ya.

A book exists at the intersection of the author's subconscious and the reader's response.