Violence Doesn't Equal Strength.

I Gave A Relenting Sigh. "fine! I'll Throw On Some Clothes. Turn Around. I'm In My Pj's." Pj's That Consisted Of Nothing But A Tank Top And Boy Shorts--an Image I Didn't Want To Sear Into Scott's Mind. Scott Smiled. "i'm A Guy. That's Like Asking A Kid Not To Glance At The Candy Counter." Ugh. The Dimple In His Cheek Deepened. And It Was Not In Any Way Cute... Pg 196

His Were The Kind Of Eyes That Held Secrets. The Kind That Lied Without Flinching. The Kind That Once You Looked Into Them, It Was Hard To Break Away.

Your Mom Isn’t Going To Let Me Step Foot Inside This Place. I’ve Seen The Gun She Keeps On The Top Shelf Of The Pantry.

We Touched Base At Several Strategic Locations Down Our Bodies, And It Took All My Willpower To Break Away.

You Picked The Seats You Did For A Reason, Right? Familiarity. Too Bad The Best Sleuths Avoid Familiarity. It Dulls The Investigative Instinct.