Not fat, just not anorexic. She's soft in all the right places.
Gena ShowalterThe tattoos around his eyes burned as he scanned the surrounding area. No one but him probably noticed, but the plumes of darkness branching in every direction were writhing and groaning, desperate to avoid the light of the moon and street lamps.
Come to me, he beseeched them.
They didn’t hesitate. As if they’d merely been waiting for the invitation, they danced toward him, flattening against his car, shielding it—and thereby him—from prying eyes.
“Freaks me out every damn time you do that,” Rowan said as he crawled into the front passenger seat. For the first time, Sean’s friend had accompanied him to “keep you from doing something you’ll regret.” Not that Gabby had known. Rowan had lain in the backseat the entire drive. “I can’t see a damn thing.”
“I can.” Sean’s gaze could cut through shadows as easily as a knife through butter.
Gabby was in the process of settling behind the wheel of her car. Though more than two weeks had passed since their kiss, they hadn’t touched again. Not even a brush of fingers.
He was becoming desperate for more.
That kiss . . . it was the hottest of his life. He’d forgotten where he was, what—and who—was around him. He’d never, never, risked discovery like that. But that night, having Gabby so close, those lush lips of hers parted and ready, those brown eyes watching him as if he were something delicious, he’d been unable to stop himself. He’d beckoned the shadows around them, meshed their lips together, touched her in places a man should only touch a woman in private, and tasted her.
Oh, had he tasted her. Sugar and lemon. Which meant she’d been sipping lemonade during her breaks. Lemonade had never been sexy to him before. Now he was addicted to the stuff. Drank it every chance he got. Hell, he sported a hard-on if he even spotted the yellow fruit.
At night he thought about pouring lemon juice over her lean body, sprinkling that liquid with sugar, and then feasting. She’d come, he’d come, and then they could do it all over again.
Seriously. Lemonade was like his own personal brand of cocaine now—which he’d once been addicted to, had spent years in rehab combating, and had sworn never to let himself become so obsessed with a substance again. Good luck with that.
“I’m getting nowhere with her,” Rowan said. “You, she watches. You, she kissed.”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Gabby’s car passed his and he accelerated, staying close enough to her that anyone trying to merge into her lane wouldn’t clip his car because they couldn’t see him. Not that anyone was out and about at this time of night. “She’s mine. I don’t want you touching her.”
“Finally. The truth. Which is a good thing, because I already called Bill and told him you were gonna be the one to seduce her.”
“Thanks.” This was one of the reasons he and Rowan were such good friends. “But I thought you were here tonight to keep me from her.”
“First, you’re welcome. Second, I lied.
You keep running and one day when you stop running your going to fall, and I'm going to be there to catch you.
Gena ShowalterShe stood, squared her shoulders. “We’ll do it. Together.” And then she did something that shocked them both. She rose on her tiptoes and pressed a swift kiss on his lips. “Thank you for returning to help me.”
When she tried to move away, he latched onto her forearms and held her in place. His eyes were gleaming. "Next time you decide to do that…"
What?" she said, stiffening. "Give you a little warning?"
No." He grinned. "Linger.
If all we've got to look forward to is disloyalty and treachery, why do we even make friends?"
"Again, human nature. Hoping for the best is what drives us.
Stichwörter: aden gena-showalter intertwined mary-ann
Marcus: Cherry?
Jillian: My ten-year-old niece.
Marcus: She's named after a piece of fruit?
Jillian nodded.
Jillian: So is her twin sister, Apple.
Marcus: You're kidding me.
Jillian: Unfortunately, I'm serious. Their father is fond of fruit pies and thought it would be cute.
Marcus: And their mother didn't protest?
Jillian: She thinks Steven's cute, so she gives him whatever he wants.
Stichwörter: humor fruit gena-showalter
As teenagers, Marcus had been the muscle and Jake the brains. Marcus had beat up the kids who'd made fun of skinny Jake; Jake had convinced teachers not to punish him.
Since then, Marcus had grown a brain (kind of) and Jake had developed muscles. But habits die hard.
Stichwörter: humor gena-showalter
Yes, men are pigs. Except your brother, of course. He's actually a decent human being. Almost a woman.
-Jillian's mother
Stichwörter: humor men romance
Evelyn: There's nothing wrong with embracing one's emotions.
Brittany: Mom, You don't just embrace your emotions, you make love to them hard-core.
Stichwörter: humor emotions gena-showalter
Demon?” Gwen gasped out. Her back jerked ramrod-straight, and her face leeched of
color. “Did you just say demon?”
Oh, uh…did I say that?” Strider once again glanced around the plane helplessly. “No, no.
I think I said seaman.
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