You find the wrong boy, you ask for trouble. You find the right boy, you find love.
Becca FitzpatrickNora: What are you planning? Patch: I wouldn't call this planning. I'd call this throwing a Hail Mary with seconds left on the clock.
Becca FitzpatrickIt didn't escape me that he couldn't seem to stop finding reasons to touch me. Nor did I miss that I didn't want him to stop.
Becca FitzpatrickHis finger flicked open a button on my cardigan-then two, three, four. It tumbled off my shoulders, leaving me in my camisole. He pushed up the hem, teasing and stroking his thumb across my stomach. My breath came in a sharp intake of air.
Becca Fitzpatrick