You didn’t tell me she was so soft on the eyes,” he said to Patch, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He spoke with a heavy Irish accent. “I didn’t tell her how hard you are on them either,” Patch returned, his mouth at the relaxed stage just before a grin.

Don’t start. I saw Marcie climb inside your Jeep.” “She needed a ride.” I adopted a hands-on-hips pose. “What kind of ride?” “Not that kind of ride,” he said slowly.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. This isn’t a good idea. This isn’t right.” “There’s all kinds of right,” he murmured. “On the spectrum, we’re still in the safe zone.” ... “Definitely right. Usually right,” Patch continued. “Mostly right. Maybe right.

Love the hair. Love when it’s out of control. It’s like seeing a side of you that needs to come out more often.

I wanted to imprint his touch, his taste, even the scent of him so solidly inside me that no one could take them away from me.

He brushed my curls back off my face. “I never pictured my life so complete. I never thought I’d have everything I want. You’re everything to me, Angel.

See, when you lie to me it hurts," Rixon said, swiping an imaginary tear. "I thought we had something special. I thought our joint eternal sentences of damnation were our bond.