Dear Satan. I don't know why you're testing me, but I don't like it. No love, Galen.
Christine BellOh my God. I kneed him in the wiener. And oh my frigging God, it was like stone.
Christine BellWhat it looks like is that you’re having sex with one of my oldest friends in the linen closet of our reception hall. Unless, of course, she’s lost something in her vagina and you were gallant enough to try and fish it out for her. With your penis. If that’s the case, I suggest using a larger lure.
Christine BellPlease tell me you’re not chastising me over my lack of
manners right now. Because if I thought that were true, I just might get
one of those stupid shrimp forks your mother insisted we have and jam it
into your eye.
When he was preparing for a big fight, his trainer would take him mountain climbing to build up his hand strength and endurance. Max’s favorite piece of advice? Don’t look down until you reach the summit. Galen had asked why, thinking Max would give him some inspirational shit about the satisfaction of seeing how far he’d come at the end or something. Instead, Max had snorted, “Because it’s fucking scary.
Christine BellStichwörter: down-for-the-count
He wore a threadbare white T-shirt that should’ve been as noteworthy as a bowl of oatmeal. Instead, it clung to his chest like it had aspirations of taking over for his skin. Hell, she’d have the same life goal.
Christine BellBut he didn’t know the half of it. That it wasn’t just his refusal that had haunted her. It was him. Everything about him.
Christine BellAn image of that sexy, soul-searching stare sent a bolt of heat through her. Sexy? It wasn’t sexy. It was…invasive. And annoying.
And sexy.
Bring it."
Maybe not a declaration of love, but pure fucking Cat Thomas.
She may have mentally relegated him to the friend zone, but the rest of her hadn’t gotten the memo
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