Elle Kennedy Quotes

Jesus Christ, bro, what the hell were you doing in there? Shaving your legs? Thirteen-year-old girls take shorter showers than that!"

"I was literally in there for five minutes.

Unbelievable. Every girl at this college would cut her frickin' arm off to help me out. But this one? Runs away like I just asked her to murder a cat so we could sacrifice it to Satan.

I drop his hand like a hot potato and scowl deeply. "You're such a vagina-tease.

We go quiet as the next episode picks up exactly where it left off. Antoine manages to subdue Marie-Thérèse, and the two proceed to argue for ten minutes. Don't ask me about what, because it's in French, but I do notice that the same word - héritier - keeps popping up over and over again during their fight.

"Okay, we need to look up that word," I say in aggravation. "I think it's important."

Allie grabs her cell phone and swipes her finger on the screen. I peek over her shoulder as she pulls up a translation app. "How do you think you spell it?" she asks.

We get the spelling wrong three times before we finally land on a translation that makes sense: heir.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "They're talking about the father's will."

"Shit, that's totally it. She's pissed off that Solange inherited all those shares of Beauté éternelle."

We high five at having figured it out, and in the moment our palms meet, pure clarity slices into me and I'm able to grasp precisely what my life has become.

With a growl, I snatch the remote control and hit stop.

"Hey, it's not over yet," she objects.

"Allie." I draw a steady breath. "We need to stop now. Before my balls disappear altogether and my man-card is revoked."

One blond eyebrow flicks up. "Who has the power to revoke it?"

"I don't know. The Man Council. The Stonemasons. Jason Statham. Take your pick."

"So you're too muc

I walk into my bedroom after my morning shower to hear my phone ringing. And since everyone my age texts instead of calls, I know exactly who it is without having to check the screen.

"Hey, Mom," I greet her, gripping the edge of my towel as I head for the dresser.

"Mom? Holy shish kebob. So it's true? I mean, I thought I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy twenty-one years ago, but that seems like a distant memory. Because if I did have a son, he'd probably call me more than once a month, right

He purses his lips, and the sexual predator mustache he's rocking bushes up.

Twenty minutes into the film, she turns to me suddenly. "Hey. Question."

I click the track pad to press pause. "Hit me."

"Am I your girlfriend?"

I give her my creepiest leer. "I don't know, baby, do you want to be?"

Amusement dances in her brown eyes. "Well, now I don't.

Ha. You have no idea how hard a guy gets off from a good prostate massage.

Sighing, I turn to the girls. "Rain check?"

Neither of them puts up much of a fight. Apparently Miss Allie didn't just kill the mood, she scorched the fuckin' earth and covered it with salt to prevent horniness from ever growing back.

I'm a history major, baby. I know tons of useless facts

I get up and make a beeline for my discarded jeans. "I do care about you," I protest. "But…"



She angrily shoves her panties on. "But what?"



"But I thought we were clear about what this was. I don't want anything serious." I shoot her a pointed look. "I told you that from the start."



Her expression softens as she bites her lip. "I know, but…I just thought…"



I know exactly what she thought - that I'd fall madly in love with her, and our casual hookup would transform into the fucking Notebook.

- What's going on here?
Hannah jumps when the coach enters in the shower room.
- Hi Coach. That's not what you believe.
He does not look happy.
- What I believe is that you shower in front of your girlfriend. In my locker room.
- In that case, that's what you believe. But I swear to you that it's innocent. It's not going to be anything sexual, I said, smiling. I'm trying to win her back.
The coach opens his mouth, then closes it, then he reopens it. I can not tell if he's amused, pissed off, or just wants to forget the entire episode. He ends up shaking his head and choosing the third option.
- Go on, he said.

Never in her wildest dreams would she have pegged this man as a dirty talker. Just went to show that you should never underestimate the quiet ones - and never let your guard down around them either.

I never expected her. Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don't know how you ever lived without them. How you went about your day and hung out with your friends and fucked other people without having this one important person in your life." Garrett Graham

Kane..." she hesitated. "I lied to you last night."
His green eyes searched her face. "What did you lie about?"
"When I said... when I said I didn't want to kiss you again." Her breath came out in an unsteady puff. "I lied.

Garrett: Allie's gonna crash in my room.
Garrett: Your dick can stay in your room.

My best friend nods solemnly. Then he keels over. Asshole.

I poke myself in the eye. "Would you stop touching yourself?" I drop the mascara tube on the table and pick up a tissue to wipe the smear of black I just made at the inside corner of my eyelid because I can't keep my fricking eyes off Dean.

"What's wrong, baby? You jealous? I was thinking of how hot you look." He rolls to his side. "You make a little circle with your mouth when you put your eye makeup on. It's basically begging me to stick my dick in there."

Nope, there's nothing warm and squishy about my relationship with this guy. I shoot him a disbelieving glance. "We just got done having morning sex," I remind him. I apply two quick swipes of the mascara before Dean's hand can do more damage under the bed sheets.

"That was thirty minutes ago. Since then, you've showered, waved your tits and bare ass in front of me getting dressed, and then made little blowjob circles with your mouth. So yeah, I'm horny again. Sue me.

What is wrong with you?" I say in lieu of greeting. "You went to Morris's dorm and declared your intentions?"

He offers a faint smile. "Of course. It was the noble thing to do. I can't be chasing after another guy's girl without his knowledge."

"I'm not his girl," I snap. "We went on one date! And now I'm never going to be his girl, because he doesn't want to go out with me again."

"What the hell?" Logan looks startled. "I'm disappointed in him. I thought he had more of a competitive spirit than that."

"Seriously? You're going to pretend to be surprised? He won't see me again because your jackass self told him he couldn't."

Astonishment fills his eyes. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"Is that what he told you?" Logan demands.

"Not in so many words."

"I see. Well, what words did he actually use?"

I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. "He said he's backing off because he doesn't want to get in the middle of something so complicated. I pointed out that there's nothing complicated about it, seeing as you and I are not together." My aggravation heightens. "And then he insisted that I need to give you a chance, because you're a - " I angrily air-quote Morris's words " - 'stand-up guy who deserves another shot.'"

Logan breaks out in a grin.

I stab the air with my finger. "Don't you dare smile. Obviously you put those words in his mouth. And what the hel

Him: Confession: I deleted all the 1 Direction from your iPod when u were in the can.
You're welcome.
Me: WHAT?? I'm going to kiss u!
Him: With tongue?
It takes me a second to realize what happened, at which point I'm completely mortified.
Me: Kill u! I meant KILL. u. Damn autocorrect.
Him: Surrrrrre. Let's blame it on autocorrect.
Me: Shut it.
Him: I think someone wants to kiss me…

So why do they call it the crease?" Dex asks in fascination after the second period commences. "And why does it sound so dirty?" On my other side, Allie leans in to grin at Dexter. "Babe, everything about hockey sounds dirty. Five-hole? Poke check? Backdoor?" She sighs. "Come home with me one time and listen to my dad yell Jam it in! over and over again when he watches hockey, and then you can talk to me about dirty. Not to mention uncomfortable.

I can't help it. Tolbert seems to respond to my brand of bullshit. It's a gift."



"Well, I want your gift. Please, master, teach me how to bullshit.

He's holding a squirming Jamie in his arms, but her efforts to wiggle out of his grip are futile, because her daddy's strong as fuck.

Sean slowly met her eyes. He knew damn well that now wasn't the time to have this conversation, not when they were parked a hundred yards from the warehouse, but he couldn't stop the confession. "I love you, you know.

And all those things you listed right now, they're
things Garrett and I do together. Dude, you don't want me. You want me and
Garrett.

I know exactly what it is.

I happen to be a fantastic kisser. Sadly, you will never get to find out."
"Never say never," he answers in a singsong voice.
"Thanks for that, Justin Bieber. But yeah, not going to happen, dude.

Baby, I could watch you watching paint dry, and I still wouldn't be bored." Garrett Graham, my own personal sweet-talker.

Our facility is state of the art. There are half a dozen big cozy offices that Chad Jensen could've parked his ass in, but for some reason he chose this modest office tucked away near the laundry room.

I knock on the door, only opening it when I hear Coach's gruff, "Get in here." The last player who waltzed in without knocking got a tongue-lashing that the rest of us could hear all the way from the showers. I like to think Coach uses the office to jack off and that's why he insists on privacy. Logan hypothesizes that he has a secret office family that's only allowed to venture out in the wee hours of the night.

Logan is an idiot.

She's just uttered the words every guy wants to hear - I want you so bad - but damn it, she's drunk and I can't let her do this. Her

I roll my eyes. "I'm not asking you to take your clothes off, baby. I just want to peek at your midterm."



"Baby? Goodbye forward, hello presumptuous.

I knock on Grace's door twenty minutes later, ordering myself to keep the gloating to a minimum. But damn, I'm feeling pretty fucking gloaty about the way I've successfully fulfilled all of her demands. It really is a shame that people don't grasp what a stubborn motherfucker I am.

Now I'm gaping at him, because is he for real? "Hey, asshole, you're filthy rich. If anyone should be paying full price for movie tickets, it's you."
"I was being nice, asshole. Waiting for the cheap day so you'd be able to afford it." Then he flashes his trademark grin, the one that makes chicks drop their panties and dive onto his dick.
"Don't give me your sex grin. It's creeping me out."

His mouth stays frozen in the sex-grin position. "I'll stop smiling like this if you agree to be my date tonight."
"You're the most annoying pers - "
The grin widens, and he even throws a little wink in there.
Ten minutes later, we're out the door.

I'd rather go my whole life in limbo than have him tell me that he's fallen in love with a woman who isn't me.

Do you think it happens in real life? Pheromones and all that crap. Is it a bullshit theory some horndog dreamed up so he could justify why he's attracted to his mother or some shit?

Just as the door opens, I look intently at the screen and act like I'm still chatting with her mother. '--And she stuck her finger in my ass when she was blowing me, which was fucking incredible. I never thought I'd enjoy having anything up there, but--'
Grace screams in horror.

I fight the grin that's trying to surface. For all his sweet words and aw shucks smiles, Tucker really is an alpha fucker. I don't know why that thrills me so much, but it does.

Drew Baylor, right?

It was so strange. She'd known the man for years, and during that time the only feelings he'd evoked in her were curiosity and indifference. But three measly days at his side, and somehow she'd fallen in love with him.

You want to be bad?" His tone was low, dangerous, thrilling. "Well, you came to the right place.

My goal, once upon a time, was to succeed. I didn't realize that success wasn't grades or scholarships or achievements, but the people I was lucky enough to have in my life.

The family behind us wants to leave." He twists to peer through the back windshield. "They already have two kids. Let's follow them home." "Let's not.

Is that what the balloons are for?"

"Did you think the balloons are for you? Because they're not."

"Is that why the silver one says 'Welcome Home, Son'?"

"It was discounted. I would've bought the 'I'm the Greatest Mom in the World,' but it cost five dollars more."

"Man, the patriarchy is even ruining balloon sales?"

Thrusting the attached streamers toward me, she laughs. "It's a terrible world, which is why we need balloons.

So there are pics of Tucker's mighty wang on the internet?"

"I haven't been tagged on Instagram yet, so I'm hopeful they aren't out there. But thanks for calling my dick mighty. We appreciate that." Amusement colors his words.

"We? As in you and your penis?"

"Yup," he says cheerfully.

I snuggle deeper under the covers. "You have a name for your penis?"

"Doesn't everyone? Guys put a name on everything that's important to them - cars, dicks. One of my teammates in junior hockey named his stick, which was dumb because sticks break all the time. He'd gone through twelve of them by the end of the season."

"What were the names?"

"That's the thing. He just kept adding a number to the end, like iPhone 6, iPhone 7, except in his case it was Henrietta 1, Henrietta 2, et cetera."

I snicker. "He should've used the hurricane naming convention."

"Darlin', he wasn't smart enough to come up with two names, let alone twelve.

See what a good girlfriend I am? I'm all about the compromises." She grins. "This relationship rocks."

"Damn right it does." I kiss her cheek, then suck in a breath when something occurs to me.

"What is it?" she says in concern.

I turn to her with even wider eyes. "Babe…are we boring?"

Allie hoots. "Did you really just ask that?"

"Yes, I fucking asked that." I wave a hand around the room. "Look at us. It's Friday night and we're on the living room couch, talking about how great our relationship is. That's the most boring thing we can be doing." I sigh loudly. "Is this our life now? Doomed to stay in and cuddle every night? Is the excitement over?"

"The excitement isn't over," she assures me.

"Are you sure?

As I brush my teeth, I scroll through my phone to see if Sabrina texted when my phone was on silent last night.

She didn't. Damn. I was hoping my speech - and that amazing fucking kiss - might've changed her mind about going out with me, but I guess it didn't.

I do, however, find the most mind-boggling conversation in the group chat I have with my roommates. All the messages are from last night, and they're bizarre as fuck.

Garrett: The hells, D?!

Dean: It's not what you think!!

Logan: It's hard to mistake ur romantic bath with that giant pink thing! In ur ass!

Dean: It wasn't in my ass!

Garrett: I'm not even going to ask where it was

Dean: I had a girl over!

Garrett: Suuuuuuuuure

Logan: Suuuuuuuuure

Dean: I hate you guys

Garrett: <3

Logan: <3

I rinse my mouth out, spit, and drop the toothbrush into the little cup on the sink. Then I quickly type out a text.

Me: Wait… what did I miss?

Since we have practice in twenty minutes, the guys are already awake and clearly on their phones. Two photos pop up simultaneously. Garrett and Logan have both sent me pics of pink dildos. I'm even more confused now.

Dean messages immediately with, Why do you guys have dildo pics handy?

Logan: ALINIMB

Dean: ??

Me: ??

Garrett: At Least It's Not In My Butt.

My face? Turn-on. Chest? Turn-on. I'd roll over and show you my ass, but we both know the answer will be 'turn-on' so I'll skip that one. Dick? Turn the fuck on. And then we get to the non-physical awesomeness that is Dean.

What's up, broskis!" Pace greets the radio audience. "You're listening to Whatcha Need with Pace 'N Evelyn."

Cringing, Evelyn leans into her microphone. "Before we start, I'd like to ask everyone to speak in their indoor voices today, because I am currently sporting a brutal hang-over." She glares at her co-host. "I'm talking to you, asswipe."

And so it begins.

Custom-made, of course. Tucker likes to get things custom-made. Probably because the ridiculous shit he comes up with in his head isn't available to normal consumers.

Did you know that when the baby starts moving that it's called the quickening?" Hope says.

I snicker. "So she's going to burst out of my stomach with a sword declaring there can be only one?"

"Possibly. Women have died in childbirth, right? The baby is essentially a parasite. It lives off your nutrients, saps your energy." She taps the bottom of a hanger against her lip. "So yeah, I think the Highlander motto could fit."

Carin and I look at her in horror. "Hopeless, you can shut up any time now," Carin orders.

"I was just saying, from a medical standpoint, it's a possible theory. Not here, but maybe in other less developed nations." She reaches over and pats my belly. "Don't worry. You're safe. You should've gotten more maternity clothes," she says, moving on to another topic while I'm still digesting that my baby is a parasite.

"It makes you feel powerless, doesn't it? You want me, you can't fight it, and it makes you crazy."
… "Maybe I just don't treat sex as casually as you do."
"Oh no, it's all about control." He dipped his head so that his breath tickled the bridge of her nose.
She didn't know where he was going with this, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. "Kane."
"Control can be a very good thing to have, but sometimes you need to let go. Why don't we try to see if you can let go, Abby?

Relationships are a fucking pain in the ass sometimes.

I want to know now," I whine, not caring that I sound like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum.

"How about this? We'll Rock, Paper, Scissors for it."

Yeah, we're going to make great parents, all right.

"Fine." I crack my knuckles, which makes him snicker. "Ready?"

"Ready."

We count in unison. On three, we reveal our hands. He did paper. I did rock.

"I win," he says smugly.

"Sorry, baby, but you lose."

"Paper covers rock!"

I smirk. "Rock weighs down the paper so it can't fly away. It traps it."

A loud sigh fills the room. "I'm not going to win on this, am I?"

"Nope." But he looks so cute right now that I offer a compromise. "How about this? You can leave the room while the doctor tells me, and I swear I won't give it away. I'll hide all my baby purchases in my closet so you can't see what I'm buying."

"Deal

Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don't know how you ever lived without them.

Anyway, this girl... she's the love of my life. She's smart and funny and unbelievably compassionate. She forgives people even when they don't deserve it. She-"
"Good lay?" Pace interrupts.
"Oh yeah. The best.

When he wants to be? She says it like it's the endorsement of the year, but the way I see it, people should be nice because they are, not because it's a calculated move on their part.

She shook her head and said," If there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that shitty things happen. You can't always stop them. They just happen. And yeah, you can let them destroy you, but what's the point? Might as well learn to deal with all those shitty things and move on."
"Is that what you did?"
"Yes." She paused. "And you will too. You just have to accept your loss and try your best to live out the rest of your life without letting the loss destroy you."
"Easier said than done," he muttered.
She laughed. "Who said life was easy?

Holy shit," I blurt out. "You shaved the beard." I glare at Garrett. "Why didn't you tell me? I would've thrown us a party."

Dean snickers. "You mean thrown him a party."

"No, he means us," Garrett replies for me. "We're the ones who had to stare at that ghastly thing for half a year."

I smack Tuck's ass as he breezes past my stool. "Welcome back, Babyface."

"Fuck off," he grumbles.

Oh, for the love of Hey-zeus," he heard her grumbling. "Where are you, motherfucker?

I love how everything must always be defined. Gay, straight, bi. Why can't people just fuck whoever they want without feeling the need to label it or explain it away?

Ugh. You even have perfect nipples," I gripe.
His lips twitch. "Do you wanna touch em?

She glanced at the bathroom door once more, her cheeks growing warm as the glass door slid open and Kane emerged from the steamy shower stall.
Naked.
She swallowed, unable to tear her eyes away from his nude, dripping-wet body. He had the kind of rock-hard physique that would make other women drool. His broad chest tapered to a trim waist, and his legs were thick and dusted with golden hair. He was lean, not bulky, with perfectly sculpted muscles that looked like they'd been carved out of marble. He was hard. Everywhere.
"I'm afraid it's too late for you to join me in the shower," he said in a silky voice. "Though we could still make good use of the bed.

To quote your annoying self, are you ready to do this shit?

If I had a pair of pliers on me, I'd rip my ears off so I wouldn't have to listen to this anymore. Unfortunately, Brody doesn't even own a toolbox - I found that out when I first moved in and looked around for tools to fix the leaky kitchen faucet with. Brody had shrugged and said, "Shit leaks, man. Life doesn't always give you tools."

I'd wanted to point out that yes, life does give you tools - that's why we have fucking Home Depot. But arguing with Brody's logic is an exercise in futility

She loops her arms around my neck, wraps her legs around my hips, and clings to me like a monkey, and some happy part of my brain does flips and jumping jacks and fucking triple axels because this is my wife.

No expectations, by the way. I'm not inviting you to, like, a three- day fuck fest or anything.

He's drop dead gorgeous and more popular than the Bieber. Well, at least before Beebs went off the rails and abandoned his poor monkey in a foreign country. We settle on the bed

It's a damn shame that duels don't play a role in the modern world anymore.

Sullivan had been gone for six months, and the ticking clock in D's head was getting louder and louder the longer Sully stayed off the grid.

I want to go to the next doctor's visit with you," I tell her.

"Okay."

"Don't get too excited about all of this. You'll wake up the baby," I say dryly.

Stop. Talking."
Her whisper was muffled against his lips, and his answering chuckle was muffled by hers.
"What would you have me do instead?"
"For starters? Put your mouth to better use.

Her whisper was" title="Elle Kennedy Quotes: Stop. Talking."
Her whisper was" width="913px" height="515px" loading="lazy"/>

Sorry to interrupt, boys and girls," Logan calls out, "but it's time to put your p's and v's away. Gotta go, G."

I shoot Garrett a blank look. "P's and v's?" Half the time I can barely make sense of Logan's made-up acronyms and abbreviations.

Garrett grins at me. "Oh come on, really? Even I got one. It's grade school shit."

I think it over, then blush. "How exactly does one put away their vagina?"

He snickers. "Ask Logan. Actually, please don't.

Freedom was a drug, one that grabbed hold of you the second it entered your bloodstream. It made you giddy and reckless if you didn't know how to channel it.

I wish I was gay," he says ruefully.
A snicker pops out. "Uh-huh. Go on. I'm willing to follow you down this rabbit hole and see where it leads."
"Seriously, Gretch, I love him. I have a boner for him." Morris sighs. "If I'd known he existed, I wouldn't have asked you out in the first place."
"Gee, thanks."
"Oh, shut up. You're awesome, and I'd tap that in a second. But I can't compete with this guy. He's operating on a whole other level when it comes to you.

Don't tell anyone, but sometimes I'm not sure I understand how planes even stay in the air.

Are you going to put some clothes on?" she blurted out.
"No. Are you going to take yours off?"
"No."
"Right. Of course not.

There is no tomorrow, Hudson. Right now is all that matters."
"Live in the moment," she murmured.
"That's what we do, sweetheart. You take pleasure where you can get it, because who knows when you'll get another chance. So yes, we live in the moment … And what a fucking moment.

I'm hard to live with."

"You're harder to live without.

You're going out with Garrett Graham." "Mmm-hmmm." "I call shenanigans." Of course she does. A date with Garrett Graham? I might as well have announced I'm marrying Chris Hemsworth.

My bad mood returns like an unwanted rash. "I got in a fight with Logan. And that's all I'm saying on the subject, because if I talk about it right now, it'll just piss me off again and then I'll be too distracted to produce Dumb and Dumber's show."

We both glance at the main booth, where Evelyn is using the reflection on her water glass to check her makeup, dabbing delicately at her eye shadow. Pace is engrossed with his phone, his chair tipped back so far that I predict a very loud disaster in the near future.

"God, I love them," Daisy says with a snicker. "I don't think I've ever met two more self-absorbed people."

Morris saunters out of the booth and wanders over to us. He notices Daisy's shirt and says, "Sweetheart, we're at work. Show some decorum."

"Says the guy who ripped this shirt off me in the supply closet." Rolling her eyes, she takes a step away. "I'm going to make myself presentable in the bathroom. I'd do it out here, but I'm scared Dumber might take a picture and post it on a porn site."

"Wait, the names Dumb and Dumber actually correspond to each of them?" Morris says in surprise. "I thought it was more of a general thing. Which one is Dumber?"

The second the question leaves his mouth, a muffled crash reverberates from the booth, and we all turn to see Pace tangled up on the floor. Yup, the guy who spent an hour regaling me about his cow-tipping days back in Iowa? Tipped himself right over.

Hell. I was like the serpent shoving the apple at Eve. Or rather the banana...

You're all one-track about hockey, remember? And besides, we argue too much."

"We don't argue. We bicker."

"It's the same thing."

He rolls his eyes. "No, it's not. Bickering is fun and good-natured. Arguing is - "

"Oh my God, we're arguing about the way we argue!" I interrupt, unable to stop from laughing

Right. Yeah, she did." I keep my response vague, because Tucker is right there and he's not allowed to know about Allie and me. And…shit. I guess that means I'm not allowed to harass him for being so secretive lately, what with this pot/kettle situation we're in.

My phone buzzes, and I shut off YouTube so I can access my messages.

Logan: Just found the perfect xmas present for you in Boston.

A photo promptly appears, summoning a loud groan from my throat. The asshole sent me a pic of a novelty My Little Pony dildo. Damn thing is bright pink, with rainbow sparkles on the handle.

Logan: And it's rechargeable! U don't have to buy batteries. THAT'S handy!

Me: Hardy-har-har. You = comedian.

Then I message Grace: Tell your BF to stop being mean to me.

She texts back a smiley face. Traitor.

He might also be frowning, but it's hard to tell considering someone shaved off all of Hugh Jackman's body hair and pasted it on Tuck's face.

Because love is the ultimate goal. It's not the one I had strived for, but I was lucky enough, so damn lucky, to achieve it.

He's got plans with the girlfriend." Gage rolled his eyes. "You can say her name, man. She's not Voldemort, you know.

He looks way too comfortable sitting there on my couch. A blond Adonis with his golden chest and sculpted muscles and perfectly chiseled face. If the hockey thing doesn't work out for him, he ought to consider going into modeling. Dean Di Laurentis oozes sexuality. He could slap his face on a laxative label and every woman in the world would be praying for constipation just to have an excuse to buy it.

When he opens the door and finds me standing there, a deep scowl twists his mouth. "What do you want?"
Okay then. I was wondering if Grace would tell him about the kiss, and his visible hostility answers that question.
"I came here to declare my intentions towards Grace," I announce.

So why'd you flake out on the party?"

"I wasn't in the mood. I kept picturing you crying here alone and pity won out."

"I'm not crying, jackass." I point to the boring-ass milk documentary that's flashing on the TV screen. "I'm learning about pasteurization."

She stares at me. "You guys pay money to subscribe to a gazillion channels and this is what you choose to watch?"

"Well, I flipped by it and saw a bunch of cow udders, and, well, you know, it turned me on, so - "

"EW!"

I burst out laughing. "Kidding, babe. If you must know, the batteries in the remote died and I was too lazy to get up and change the channel. I was watching this wicked-awesome miniseries about the Civil War before cow udders came on.

He kissed her like he owned her, and in that moment, he did. The kiss was rough and punishing, his tongue forcing her lips open and sweeping into her mouth with greedy precision. Electricity raced up Bailey's spine, red-hot and powerful, as powerful as the deep strokes of Sean's tongue and his tight grip on her waist.
"You want me," he muttered into her lips...

All my senses are filled with her - her sounds, her smell, her touch. Her.

Garrett tosses me the shirt. "Okay, get changed. We want to be fashionably late, not asshole late.

He's sporting that rumpled, rolled-out-of-bed hair, and yet I don't find it so adorable anymore. It just makes him look like a slob. Or maybe a phony, because I'm pretty sure I can see gel in his hair, which means he must've taken the time to create the I-don't-care style. Which makes him a fucking liar.

She was a drug and he was an addict, hooked on her from the second he'd met her.

Awww, look at him, G, he's so precious when he's sleeping."

"Like an angel."

"A really slutty angel."

"Wait - do angels even get laid? And if so, are heaven orgasms a million times better than earth orgasms? I bet yes."

"Uh-doy. Where do you think rainbows come from? Whenever you see a rainbow, that means an angel just came."

"Ah. Makes sense. Sort of like how whenever a bell rings, an angel gets its wings."

"Exactly like that."

I crank one eye open and direct it toward the doorway. "I can hear you, you know."

My annoyed voice puts an end to the most bizarre conversation I've ever heard. "Oh good, you're up," Logan says.

"Of course I'm up," I grumble, rubbing my eyes. "How am I supposed to sleep when you two fucktards are standing at the foot of my bed talking about angels blowing their loads?"

Garrett snickers. "Like I'm the first one to ever wonder about that."

"Trust me, you are.

You hid behind the door? Really?" She steps forward sheepishly. "I'm sorry." "You can shove your sorries in a sack, baby

Safe drive back to Boston, Connelly. I've been told before that the roads get really wet when it's raining.

How did I go so long without noticing you, damn it? Why did it take seeing a stupid A on your midterm to make me notice?"
He sounds so genuinely upset that I scoot closer and kiss him. "It doesn't matter. You know me now."
"I do," he says fiercely.

Evening, lads." The redhead curled her fingers around the back of Sullivan's neck and pulled his head in for a quick kiss. "Hey, baby, I missed you." It took a few head-scratching seconds to realize that he was looking at Isabel Roma.