I'm not good," he said, piercing me with eyes that absorbed all light but reflected none, "but I was worse.

He grinned when I didn't protest, and lowered his mouth toward mine. The first touch was just that - a touch. A teasing, tempting softness. I licked my lips and Patch's grin deepened.
"More?" he asked.
I curled my hands into his hair, pulling him closer. "More.

I don't go out with strangers," I said.

"Good thing I do. I'll pick you up at five.

I tended to be more a romantic than a realist, and chose blind faith over cold logic.

Let’s be honest, Nora. You’ve got it bad for me." His eyes held a lot of depth. "And I’ve got it bad for you.

He's got the whole bad-boy-in-need-of-redemption thing going on, but the catch is, most bad boys don't want redemption. They like being bad. They like the power they get from striking fear and panic into the hearts of mothers everywhere