„You,” the female on the bed said, her timbre shaded with irrittion. „New guy. Angel Boy. Colonel Curls, or whatever you want to be called. I'm done asking, so now I'm commanding. Free me.

I never lie- except for the few times I do in fact lie, but it's never intentional, and i'm totally telling the truth right now" She raised her right hand "promise".

Yes, you make yourself useful, angel boy. Meanwhile, I’ll be in the bathroom.” William’s jet-black hair was dripping wet and plastered to his face. There was a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist, displaying muscles that rivaled Paris’s own, and a tattooed treasure map that led to his man junk. Looking at his, you could see the makings of a temper so savage anyone who miraculously survived an encounter with him would end up needing therapy. And diapers. “I’ve got to finish deep conditioning my hair.” Or maybe not so savage.

Fried twinkies? Paris nodded. Only once, I've never forgotten the experience. It's like heaven in your mouth, man.

Come on, baby.” Paris combed his fingers through her hair. “Look past my terrible personality and hideous looks and throw me a bone. Teach me how to woo you properly.” She snorted. “I’d argue the hideous looks part.” “But not the terrible personality? Ouch. That hurts, baby.

How do we thank an angel? Somehow I don’t think a fruit basket will do the trick." ~ Amun

I like to be admired from afar, and then complimented up close.