Nothing but intoxication. Nothing but a cold soul in the middle of the night, when the moon is at it's highest and his glass is at his lowest. When his hand raises, it's enough for me to beg on my knees. It's enough for me to fend for myself, to stop myself from saying anything that intensifies his anger, to stop him from going any further and worsening his canvas. My body - his canvas.

My thoughts you can't decode.. Sequel : Escape Route.

Alexis chose the summer of 1996 to visit her Nonna in small, poorly known Clarkesville, Georgia. This year happens to be her favorite. Because a certain guy with ripped flannels, loose thick curls, and piercing green eyes won not only his thrilling illegal drag-races, but won the best trophy of them all. Her heart. [will contain mature content and much, much fluff]

"I was scared... but wouldn't you be? If a serial killer was utterly obsessed with you?" Highest rank: #2 in Thriller

Winters in London are cold. Harry drinks tea to keep warm. Lena doesn't like that. She's much more of a coffee person, really.