Quotes from Leslie A. Kelly

whispered, gripping his arm. Holding on, she pulled him to the other side of the tunnel. She put her free hand up on the wall, a

won't be easy to get to," he muttered, his own voice stark against the silence. "Not easy at all." The man lived in a fortress of

mouths met in a slow, warm kiss that demanded nothing yet promised the world. The kind only two people who'd shared incredible intimacies, and knew how good things could be, were able to fully savor. She tasted so sweet, and felt so right in his arms, that he couldn't even remember why he'd bargained for anything but the real deal

hands, gently toying with her sensitive nipples. Gasping, she sagged against him, knowing he wouldn't let her fall. One strong hand slid down her side to her hip, where he grasped her possessively; then he pushed her back to lean against the wall. Kissing his way down her neck and nuzzling into the hollow of her throat, he murmured tender, sexy promises, the hunger in his voice making

He's not auctioning off the right to choose a victim. In fact, the auction winner has no say about who gets killed." Sighing heavily, disgust evident in the posture, the other man finally got to the bones of it. "He's auctioning off the right to choose the means of death.

nuts. I told you before, I'm no nice guy." He had an ex and a bunch of other people, like those he'd busted and some he'd worked with, who'd confirm it. She turned around in his arms, her body pressed against his as she looked up into his eyes. "Yes, you are. That's what's killing me here." "I so don't get

Stacey stepped closer. Closer. Until the tips of her boot-clad feet touched his shoes and their clothes brushed. The place was wrong; the timing was even more wrong. But everything else about the moment

voice shook with angry emotion, her slim body suddenly seeming too fragile to handle the weight that had been dumped on it. "I can't

cried. She had at last been releasing those closed-up boxes of dark emotion that he suspected had been building in her head for a very long time. She'd needed to let them go. The catalyst for the final emotional meltdown had been a poor pup someone had left on her front porch; he suspected she'd been ready to break anyway. He was just glad he had been here when she did. "Dean?" she murmured, not even