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                #1. I'm in, Cat. I'd never leave you. Especially when you've got death breathing down your neck." "Very funny," I retorted, since Bones was inches from my throat
                Jeaniene Frost
							 
            
                    
		    
                #2. You'll drain me dry, but not my neck, and you'll beg me to stop before I'm finished. -Bones
                Jeaniene Frost
							 
            
            
		    
                #3. He pressed himself into me and kissed my neck, and it was as if everything strong and solid inside me, heart and bones and muscle and gut, softened and melted from the heat of him.
                Jennifer Donnelly
							 
            
            
		    
                #4. When I'm out, maybe I'm looking at the fried chicken, but I know I need to order the grilled. But I'm still from the country. I love my fried food and my neck bones and all that, too.
                Adrian Peterson
							 
            
                    
		    
                #5. Quit it! Tate, enough of the taunts, and Bones, how old are you? Why don't I just give you a pair of my panties to hang around your neck? Then whenever you feel jealous, you can wave them at whoever's pissing you off."
"Like you wear panties," Tate muttered.
                Jeaniene Frost
							 
            
            
		    
                #6. We stood there, squeezing each other's hands as though trying to press through the flesh to the bones and then beyond. She kissed my cheek and neck, and I felt the joy of omnipresent love 
 everything around me speaking about me with affection, and Mary was listening.
                Aleksandar Hemon
							 
            
            
		    
                #7. He dared to explore her withered neck w/his fingertips ... her hips w/their decaying bones, her thighs with their aging veins.
                Gabriel Garcia Marquez
							 
            
            
		    
                #8. Desperation's heated breath singed my neck, its jagged teeth prepared to devour my flesh. Poverty growled too, waiting its turn, famished yet patient, a beast that dined on the bones of men.
                Eric Jerome Dickey
							 
            
            
		 
		
			        
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