Quotes from J.R. Ward

Scars, though, left wounds on the inside of you, and as with skin that didn't heal right, you still felt the rough spots from time to time.

Listen, I don't want things to get weird, okay. Oh, yeah, no, weird is bad. But just so you and I are clear, I really fucking want to kiss you right now.

She slapped him so fast and so hard,his head actually kicked back on his spine.His first instinct was to bare his fangs and bite her,to punish her,to tantalize himself-because there was no better spice to pleasure than a little pain.Or a lot of it.He righted his head and lowered his lids.That felt good.Do you want to do it again?

Hollywood Expressed his inner Godzilla again" V to Z

Will you live over there? Phury asked. Live over where? Butch cut in. You mean you won't be able to fight with us? Or, like… hang? No, I made that a condition of the deal. As Butch exhaled in relief, V tried not to get sapped out that his roommate cared about seeing him as much as he cared about being seen.

Time to the face the music

We also mark what's ours. And as I'm not going to see you for twelve hours, I think I'll leave a little more all over you.

Even with the Brotherhood as support, going to the colony was a suicide mission—and she was willing to bet there were a lot of people having sex under the mansion's roof right now. Sometimes you had to have a taste of life right before you knocked on the Grim Reaper's front door.

So will you meet me?" "Yeah. Sure. Where." "Montrag's safe house in Connecticut. If you were the one who killed him, you know the address.

I still think that every time I see you, after I've spent some time away from you. Thank God … he's here. ~ Marissa to Butch

you know what they say about messengers, right? Excuse me? Too much bad news will get you shot.

Traditional laws and cultural norms are flimsy mantles of power and influence. Democracy, however, when it is truly exercised, is a stone fortress that cannot be surmounted, blown asunder, or burrowed under.

The great thing about family, Mary mused, was that they showed up. When it really mattered, your family, be they blood or by choice, were always where you needed them to be, even though they had busy lives and jobs and children of their own.

G'on now.' he murmured with that Southern drawl. 'Lie on back and let me take care of you. I promise to go slow...real slow.' - Issac Rothe, Crave

For her, he was . . . the one.

And this about-to-see-God stuff? Total buzz kill, and not because he was religious in the human way or jel that she was having a great time while he was thinking of pizza. Her grating, squeaky YouPorn performance with the head throws that kept landing her extensions in his face was getting on his nerves.

There was something about the people you grew up around, the ones you'd seen throughout your childhood, the folks you couldn't remember not knowing. Even if the past was a complicated mess, as you aged, you were just glad the sons of bitches were still on the planet. It gave you the illusion that life wasn't as fragile as it actually was--and on occasion, that was the only thing that got you through the night.

The thing was, the places of your life, like the clothes you wore and the car you drove and the friends and associates you had, were a product of the way you lived.

As she stood down below him on the street,it seemed impossible that she'd connected with him as she had,but then,the phone was virtual relating,one step up from being online.Both people were in their own environments,invisible to each other,only their voices mixing.It was false intimacy.

The effect she had on him was druglike, a tantalizing combination of sexual need and profound ease. Like he was having an orgasm and falling into a peaceful sleep at the same time. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

Besides, the mhis that surrounded the compound could scramble anything from GPS to Santa Claus.

How old are you?" "Eighteen years out of my transition. You?" He raised his cocktail glass. "Three hundred fifty-eight years and two months." "Not even middle-aged." "No." He smiled. "Not old. Now, if we were humans, this would be inappropriate." "Well, you would be dead. So yes, necrophilia is creepy.

Life is such a glorious trauma, is it not? - Wrath

But come on, like she hadn't seen every aisle in his grocery store already?