If you can't feel then why did you kiss me? Because I can feel it here, in my heart.

Hang on, did you just call me Angel?" "If I did?

Shouldn’t you be working instead of fraternizing with customers?” I choked. He smiled. “What are you doing Sunday night?” I snorted. By accident. “Are you asking me out?” “You’re getting cocky. I like that, Angel.” “I don’t care what you like. I’m not going out with you. Not on a date. Not alone.

His 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.

I couldn't picture myself with a boyfriend, but if I had to, I envisioned a nice normal guy who turned in his math homework on time and maybe even played rec baseball.

I was tired of admiring your legs from a distance.

Your name?” I repeated, hoping it was my imagination that my voice faltered. “Call me Patch. I mean it. Call me