That’s an unfortunate place for a birthmark,” I said, more than a little unnerved that it was so similarly positioned to my own scar. Patch casually but noticeably slid his sleeve down over his wrist. “You’d prefer it someplace more private?” “I wouldn’t prefer it anywhere.” I wasn’t sure how this sounded and tried again. “I wouldn’t care if you didn’t have it at all.” I tried a third time. “I don’t care about your birthmark, period.
Becca FitzpatrickYou should shower," I said. "Right now." "I smell that bad?" (Patch) Actually, he smelled that good.
Becca FitzpatrickNothing makes me happy quite like a boatload of freshly fried fast food, smothered in good old MSG.
Becca FitzpatrickIs everything a joke to you?” I asked. He dabbed his tongue to his lip again. “Not everything.” “Like what?” “You.
Becca FitzpatrickI might have been tempted to hit him square in the jaw had he not taken me by the shoulders and pinned me against the wall. There was hardly any space left between us, just a thin boundary of air, but Patch managed to eliminate it. "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 leaned into me and put his mouth on mine. A lot of him was on me, actually. We touched base at several strategetic locations down our bodies, and it took all my willpower to break away.
Becca Fitzpatrick