Those lips had curved into a knowing half smile that did funny things to her insides. And like a match tossed to gasoline, her body sparked alive and flames licked every inch of her.

I started to kiss him back, slower and clumsy where his had been sure, practiced. I was worried I was doing it wrong, but then a deep sound came from him, almost a growl and instinctively I knew it was a sound of approval.

Guess what, Avery?" "What?" I wondered if he could see how fast my heart was beating beneath my shirt. "Remember how you just said you were having a good time?" Cam lowered his head so that our mouths were scant inches apart. "It's about to get better." "Is it?" He shifted his head and his nose grazed mine. "Oh, yeah." "Are you not going to kiss me again?" His lips tipped up. "That's exactly what I'm going to do.

You do know him, so that's a lame excuse." It was a lame excuse, but it was the best I had. "How do you really ever truly know someone?" Brit smacked her hands to her cheeks and she shook her head. "He's not a serial killer." "Speaking of serial killers, everyone thought Ted Bundy was a really charming, handsome man. And look how he turned out. Psycho." Jacob stared at me. "He's not Ted Bundy.

I’d still be nice to you if you were ugly.” “Okay.” A wicked grin slipped over his full lips. He bent his head down and whispered, “I just wouldn’t offer you any cookies.

It was a Friday night, she was at a club, and a good-looking man was currently giving her the I-want-to-take-you-home-and-I-hope-I-last-longer-than-five-minutes look… and she was thinking about pie, a young adult book, and feeding her cat. She was so turning into the cat lady at twenty-seven. Sweet.

I want you to know that I’m serious. You’re not a hook up. You’re not a friend with benefits. You’re more than that to me.