You possess other people's...bodies." He accepted that statement with a nod. "Do you want to possess my body?" "I want to do a lot of things to your body, but that's not one of them.
He grinned. “Busted. I’m a monster. Jev is my deceptively harmless — and shockingly handsome — alter ego.” “And I’m on top of it,” she announced with witty triumph. “Is that a Freudian slip?” His bluntness caught her off guard. A self-conscious blush rose in her face.
Are you keeping anything else from me?” “I’m keeping a lot of things from you.” “Like?” “Like the way I feel about being locked up in here with you. You have no idea what you do to me.
Your past wouldn’t frighten me,” I said, buckling my seat belt across my lap. “I’m guessing I’d be more appalled than anything.
It’s brown.” So maybe I had the teeniest, tiniest, most infinitesimal amount of auburn in my hair. I was still a brunette. “It’s the lighting,” I said. “Yeah, maybe it’s the lightbulbs.” His smile brought up both sides of his mouth, and a dimple surfaced.
Did they look like anyone we know? For example… a cross between Pippi Longstocking and the Wicked Witch of the West would obviously give us Marcie Millar
"This isn't over," I said. "After everything we've been through, you don't get the right to brush me off. I'm not letting you off that easily." I wasn't sure if it was a threat, my last stab at defiance, or irrational words spoken straight from my splintered heart. "I want to protect you," Patch said quietly. He stood so close. All strength and heat and silent power. I couldn't escape him, now or ever. He'd always be there, consuming my every thought, my heart locked in his hands. I was drawn to him by forces I couldn't control, let alone escape. "But you didn't".
Why is Anthony Amowitz using his pimp smile on you?” “You’re only calling him a pimp because he’s here. At Marcie’s.” “Yeah, so?” “He’s being nice.” I elbowed her. “Smile back.” “Being nice? He’s being horny.
I cared about us. But the cold hard truth was, nothing I said or did could realign the stars.
The subject’s pulse increased on contact,” he said. “Don’t write that.
Gosh, it was nice talking to you, but I’ve got a lot of things I’d rather be doing. Like sticking my hand in the garbage disposal.
I was tired of admiring your legs from a distance.
First,” he said, coming behind me and placing his hands on the counter, just outside of mine, “choose your tomato.” He dipped his head so his mouth was at my ear. His breath was warm, tickling my skin. “Good. Now pick up the knife.” “Does the chef always stand this close?” I asked, not sure if I liked or feared the flutter his closeness caused inside me. “When he’s revealing culinary secrets, yes.
You’ve never been to school, ever? If that’s true—and you’re right, I don’t think it is—what made you decide to come this year?” “You.
Maggots squirming in your eyeholes...and your other orifices, might be carrying things a bit too far." "This is why I keep you around, Rixon. Always seeing things from the bright side.
Wow. Nice bike,” I said. Which was a lie. It looked like a glossy black death trap.
I took three steps back; he nudged the door closed with his foot. “You like Mexican?” he asked. “I—” I’d like to know what you’re doing inside my house! “Tacos?” “Tacos?” I echoed. This seemed to amuse him. “Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese.” “I know what a taco is!
Patch smiled. “You come by your red hair naturally?” I stared at him. “I don’t have red hair.” “I hate to break it to you, but it’s red. I could light it on fire and it wouldn’t turn any redder.
Are we going to have to teach you to fight, Angel?
If we hooked up, he could write me ballads and stuff. You gotta admit, nothing's sexier than a guy who writes music.
That's really eco-friendly of you," Vee told Marcie. "Recycling Nora's old trash.
I believe in destiny Angel. I believe every choice I've made has brought me closer to you. I looked for you for a very long time. I may have fallen from heaven, but I fell for you.
I don't have a car." His eyes sliced into mine. "I walked here," I explained. "I'm on foot." "Angel," he said in a way that sounded like he sincerely hoped I was joking.
She shrieked. "Nora! What happened to the banister!" Good thing she hadn't seen her bedroom yet.
Hang on, did you just call me Angel?" I asked. "If I did?" "I don't like it." He grinned. "It stays, Angel.
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