Part of me wanted to run away from him screaming, Fire! A more reckless part was tempted to see how close I could get without... combusting.
Becca FitzpatrickMots clés nora
I trailed off. Patch leaned lazily against the counter. Dark hair flipped out from under his ball cap. A smile tugged at his mouth. My thoughts dissolved and just like that, a new thought broke the surface of my mind.
I wanted to kiss him. Right now.
I shouldn't have been looking at lingerie. It naturally made me think about sexy things. Like kissing. Like Patch.
Becca FitzpatrickMots clés nora
She cleans a toilet inside and out under a minute. More like terrifying
Becca FitzpatrickMots clés nora
I watched him pitch the ball at a table neatly lined with six bowling pins, my stomach giving a little flutter when his T-shirt crept up in the back, revealing a stripe of skin. I knew from experience that every inch of him was hard, defined muscle. His back was smooth and perfect too, the scars from when he’d fallen once again replaced with wings—wings I, and every other human, couldn’t see.
“Five dollars says you can’t do it again,” I said, coming up behind him.
Patch looked back and grinned. “I don’t want your money, Angel.”
“Hey now, kids, let’s keep this discussion PG-rated,” Rixon said.
“All three remaining pins,” I challenged Patch.
“What kind of prize are we talking about?” he asked.
“Bloody hell,” Rixon said. “Can’t this wait until you’re alone?”
Patch gave me a secret smile, then shifted his weight back, cradling the ball into his chest. He dropped his right shoulder, brought his arm around, and sent the ball flying forward as hard as he could. There was a loud crack! and the remaining three pins scattered off the table.
“Aye, now you’re in trouble, lass,” Rixon shouted at me over the commotion caused by a pocket of onlookers, who were clapping and whistling for Patch. Patch leaned back against the booth and arched his eyebrows at me. The gesture said it all: Pay up.
“You got lucky,” I said.
“I’m about to get lucky.
Mots clés nora patch hush-hush crescendo rixon
He felt warm and familiar. He felt solid and safe. I wanted to cling to his shirt, bury my face into the warm curve of his neck, and never let go.
Becca FitzpatrickPatch reached for my hand and pushed my dad's ring off the tip of his finger and into my palm, curling my fingers around it. He kissed my knuckles. "I was going to give this back earlier, but it wasn't finished."
I opened my palm and held the ring up. The same heart was engraved on the underside, but now there were two names carved on either side of it: NORA and JEV.
I looked up. "Jev? That's your real name?"
"Nobody's called me that in a long time.
Don’t start. I saw Marcie climb inside your Jeep.”
“She needed a ride.”
I adopted a hands-on-hips pose. “What kind of ride?”
“Not that kind of ride,” he said slowly.
Mots clés dream nora patch marcie
Are you defending Marcie?”
He shook his head. “I don’t need to. She handled herself. You, on the other hand…”
I pointed at the door. “Out.
Mots clés nora patch devil-s-handbag marcie
I needed him like I'd never needed anyone.
Becca FitzpatrickMots clés love nora nora-grey patch-cipriano
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