Patch was dressed in the usual: black shirt, black jeans and a thin silver necklace that flashed against his dark complexion. His sleeves were pushed up his forearms, and I could see his muscles working as he punched buttons. He was tall and lean and hard, and I wouldn't have been surprised if under his clothes he bore several scars, souvenirs from street fights and other reckless behavior. Not that I wanted a look under his clothes.
Becca FitzpatrickYouโre impinging on my private space,โ I said, inching backward. Patch gave a barely-there smile. "Impinging? This isnโt the SAT, Nora.
Becca FitzpatrickI saw you, and I wanted to be close to you. I wanted you to let me in. I wanted to know you in a way no one else did. I wanted you, all of you. That wanting nearly drove me mad.โ Patch paused, inhaling softly, as though breathing me in. โAnd now that I have you, the only thing that terrifies me is having to go back to that place. Having to want you all over again, with no hope of my desire ever being fulfilled. Youโre mine, Angel. Every last piece of you. I wonโt let anything change that.
Becca Fitzpatrick