If you can't feel then why did you kiss me? Because I can feel it here, in my heart.
You belong to the biblical race of Nephilim. Your real father was an angel who fell from heaven. You're half mortal." The boy's dark eyes lifted, meeting Chauncey's. "Half fallen angel." Chauncey's tutor's voice drifted up from the recesses of his mind, reading passages from the Bible, telling of a deviant race created when angels cast from heaven mated with mortal women. A fearsome and powerful race. A chill that wasn't entirely revulsion crept through Chauncey. "Who are you?
You picked the seats you did for a reason, right? Familiarity. Too bad the best sleuths avoid familiarity. It dulls the investigative instinct.
Vee scowled at him. She is famous for that scowl. It's a look that does everything but audibly hiss.
I could get you to smile like that, and without sales tax.
You laugh, but you haven't seen me in a tux. Or maybe you don't like broad-shouldered guys with muscular chest and washboard abs?
It was bad enough when I thought your ghost was haunting me; I don't think I could handle the real thing.
Door’s locked,” he said. “And we have unfinished business.
I didn’t accept your sacrifice. I turned it down.” I felt a small Oh form at my mouth, but it never quite made it past my lips. “Are you saying you gave up getting a human body for me?
For someone who’s made it clear that her life is superior to every other student’s at this school, you sure make it a habit of pursuing every facet of our boring, worthless lives.
Being nice? He’s being horny.
Anthony raised his red plastic cup to me and shouted something, but it was too hard to hear over the music. “What?” I called back. “You look great!” A goofy smile was plastered on his face. “Oh boy,” Vee said. “Not just a pimp, but a smashed pimp.” “So maybe he’s a little drunk.” “Drunk and hoping to corner you alone in a bedroom upstairs.” Ugh.
I'm a private contractor now. I choose my clients, not the other way around.
Something doesn't look right," Vee said. "Is the tire supposed to look like that?" I banged my head against the nearest tree trunk. "So we've got a flat," Vee said. "What now?
Her hair was strawberry blond, and she had the shape of a popsicle stick: turn her sideways and she practically disappeared.
You find the wrong boy, you ask for trouble. You find the right boy, you find love.
All I can think about is bed.” “We’re sharing the same thought.” “You’re thinking about bed too?” “I’m thinking about YOU in MY bed.
I felt his eyes devour me as I moved around the room. He assessed me head to toe without blinking, and a hot ache shivered through me. A kiss would've been less intimate.
I wanted to imprint his touch, his taste, even the scent of him so solidly inside me that no one could take them away from me.
With you, what you see is what you get. And I see cheap.
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