There was movement along the fringe of Chauncey's vision, and he snapped his head to the left. At first glance what appeared to be a large angel topping a nearby monument rose to full height. Neither stone nor marble, the boy had arms and legs. His torso was naked, his feet were bare, and peasant trousers hung low on his waist. He hopped down from the monument, the ends of his hair dripping rain. It slid down his face, which was dark as a Spaniard's.
Becca FitzpatrickEr war zu spät in meine Leben getreten, und jetzt verließ er es zu früh.
Becca FitzpatrickBut instead of taking the cue to leave, Patch crossed to Scott in three steps. He flung him around to face the wall. Scott tried to get his bearings, but Patch slammed him against the wall again, disorienting him further. “Touch her,” he said in Scott’s ear, his voice low and threatening, “and it’ll be the biggest regret of your life.”
Before leaving, Patch flicked his eyes once in my direction. “He’s not worth it.” He paused. “And neither am I.
Mots clés scott nora-grey patch-cipriano
I want to do a lot of things to your body, but that's not one of them.
Becca FitzpatrickMots clés patch
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You want me to list characteristics of a … ?”
“Potential mate, yes, that would be helpful..."
Without meaning to, I looked sideways at Patch. He was eased back in his seat, one notch above a slouch, studying me with satisfaction. He flashed his pirate smile and mouthed, We’re waiting.
I stacked my hands on the table, hoping I lookedmore composed than I felt. “I’ve never thought about it before.”
“Well, think fast.”
“Could you call on someone else first?”
Coach gestured impatiently to my left. “You’re up, Patch.”
Unlike me, Patch spoke with confidence. He had himself positioned so his body was angled slightly toward mine, our knees mere inches apart.
“Intelligent. Attractive. Vulnerable
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My arms hurt from how tightly Patch held me. “Now that’s what I call a scream,” he said, grinning at me.
Becca FitzpatrickAfficher la citation en allemand
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I’m starting a petition to have Coach fired,” Vee said, coming to my table. “What was up with class today? It was watered-down porn. He practically had you and Patch on top of your lab table, horizontal, minus your clothes, doing the Big Deed—”
I nailed her with a look that said, Does it look like I want a replay?
You’ve got food stuck in your teeth,” Vee told
Marcie. “In the crack between your two front teeth.
Looks like chocolate Ex-Lax …
Mr. Green Sweater looks normal, but his wingman looks hard-core bad boy,” said Vee. "Emits a certain don’t-mess-with-me signal. Tell me he doesn’t look like Dracula’s spawn. Tell me I’m imagining things.
Becca FitzpatrickWell, well,” he said. “Five days a week isn’t enough of me? Had to give me an evening, too?
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