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I shouldn't have been looking at lingerie. It naturally made me think about sexy things. Like kissing. Like Patch.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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Becca Fitzpatrick
Age: 45
Born: 1979
Born: February 3
Author
Novelist
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Centerville
Utah
Like
Sexy
Shouldn
Kissing
Looking
Made
Lingerie
Things
Patch
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Patches
Thinking
Naturally
More quotes by Becca Fitzpatrick
It’s so real. Most dreams are. It isn't until you wake up that you see all the plot holes.
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Your past wouldn’t frighten me,” I said, buckling my seat belt across my lap. “I’m guessing I’d be more appalled than anything.
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What I really wanted was the impossible.
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I couldn't escape him, now or ever. He'd always be there, consuming my every thought, my heart locked in his hands. I was drawn to him by forces I couldn't control, let alone escape.
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You want a blood relative to lead your army? Get Marcie. She likes ordering people around. She'll be a natural.
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I want Scott to look at me the way Patch looks at you.
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Citizen's arrest, he said. Well, that, and Patch told me to.
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If I were thinking straight, I'd take you home right now.
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Fine! I'll throw on some clothes. Turn around. I'm in my pj's I'm a guy. That's like asking a kid not to glance at the candy counter.
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He brushed my curls back off my face. “I never pictured my life so complete. I never thought I’d have everything I want. You’re everything to me, Angel.
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I cared about us. But the cold hard truth was, nothing I said or did could realign the stars.
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Just because I've gone and snagged myself a hot boyfriend doesn't mean I'm going to leave my bestfriend high and dry.
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...five minutes from now, when everything else had dropped away and I realized the full impact of what I’d done, I’d feel my heart breaking.
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I was just about to ask you the same thing. I know you followed me. Don't look so suprised. It's called a rearview mirror. Are you stalking me for a specific reason?
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I'm not good, he said, piercing me with eyes that absorbed all light but reflected none, but I was worse.
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The truth is, normal might take years. Normal might never happen. But it’s definitely not going to happen if I lounge around here watching soaps and avoiding life. I’m going to school today, end of story.
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Cheshvan starts tonight, Rixon said, What are you doing arsing around in a graveyard? Thinking. Thinking? A process by which I use my brain to make a rational decision.
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I’m not going anywhere near a motel with you.
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Strangely enough, it wasn’t Gabe who was haunting my thoughts, though. That job belonged to a pair of sinfully black eyes that had lost their edge when they studied me, turning as soft and sultry as silk.
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How warm I feel. How icredibly alive and vibrant and heedless every last inch of me feels next to you.
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