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“He thinks he's hurting me, but he's not. I could easily fight him off. I'm choosing not to because for one, I like it a little rough, and two, it irritates him that his tough guy act doesn't work on me. I see right through him. His jagged edges simply protect all those sweet parts that he thinks he needs to hide when, truthfully, he doesn't need to. Every tornado needs a reprieve in the form of a calm burst of sexy sunshine. And that's exactly what he is, light within my darkness, but of course, I can't let him know that otherwise we'll never get out of here.”
― N.J. Weeks, The Trap: A Dark Romantic Thriller

“I’ll play whatever games your heart desires. Build you a nightmare you can’t escape from and follow you like the incubus you crave. I’ll be your cover if you will be my curse. Now pick your favorite number?�� My mouth falls open in confusion. “Number?�� “Yes,�� he motions his hand for me to hurry up. “Choose a number, Blair, we don’t have all night. There’s a body to hide.”�� “Fine. How about fifteen?�� “Eh, of course it’s fifteen,�� he mumbles something else under his breath, clearly, he’s not a fan of the number. I’m about to change the number when he begins to speak again at a more audible volume. “It's a little higher than I wanted, but fifteen it is�� he shrugs. “What do you mean?�� I ask, my mind racing with what a fucking number has to do in a time like this.  He clears his throat, looking both haunting and comforting all in the same breath. “In fifteen years, if neither of us has killed the other, I will take what is mine.”
― N.J. Weeks, The Trick