Did last night really happen?" One side of his lips tipped up, and my chest swelled. I'd missed that smile. "Depends on what you think happend." "I took my shirt off for you?" His eyes deepened. "Yes. Lovely moment.

If I fall and break my neck, will you say something nice at my funeral?" "Like 'Kyler was usually more graceful?

We also told her you weren't a serial killer," Brit interjected. Cam nodded. "That's a glowing recommendation. Hey, at least he's not a serial killer. I'm going to put that on my Facebook profile.

Sorry,” he said, his voice thick and gruff. “It’s morning and you’re sitting on me. That’s a combination meant to bring any man down.

Cam was already on his feet, waiting for me. I arched my brow at him. "Following me?" "Like a true serial killer," he replied.

My brain must have felt sorry for me, so it'd created the only type of guy I could touch - a fantasy one.

Sweet baby Jesus, Blue Eyes was... He was gorgeous in all the ways that made girls do stupid things. He was tall, a good head or two taller than me and broad at the shoulders, but tapered at the waist. An athlete's body - like a swimmer's. Wavy black hair toppled over his forehead, brushing matching eyebrows. Broad cheekbones and wide, expressive lips completed the package created for girls to drool over. And with those sapphire-colored eyes, holy moley...