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Your biggest dream? - Nora Grey Kiss you. - Patch Cipriano

Becca Fitzpatrick

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Becca Fitzpatrick
Age: 45
Born: 1979
Born: February 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
Centerville
Utah
Biggest
Dream
Nora
Patch
Patches
Grey
Kiss
Kissing

More quotes by Becca Fitzpatrick

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Your mine, angel. And I won't let anything change that.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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She'll kill me if she finds you in here. Can you climb trees? Tell me you can climb a tree! Patch grinned, I can fly.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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I saw you, and I wanted to be close to you. I wanted you to let me in. I wanted to know you in a way no one else did. I wanted you, all of you.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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Anthony raised his red plastic cup to me and shouted something, but it was too hard to hear over the music. “What?” I called back. “You look great!” A goofy smile was plastered on his face. “Oh boy,” Vee said. “Not just a pimp, but a smashed pimp.” “So maybe he’s a little drunk.” “Drunk and hoping to corner you alone in a bedroom upstairs.” Ugh.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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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.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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I can't imagine why you're so interested. He shook his head. Interested? We're talking about you. I'm fascinated.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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Are you gloating inside? That's what this is about, isn't it? Getting me to trust you so you could blow it up in my face! [...] I get that you're angry—, said Patch. I am ripped apart! I shouted.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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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.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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Guess who has PE first hour? This is so unfair. I start the day off perspiring like an elephant in heat. Don't the people who make up our schedule understand body odor? Don't they understand frizzy hair? ~Vee
Becca Fitzpatrick
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Hang on, did you just call me Angel? I asked. If I did? I don't like it. He grinned. It stays, Angel.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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I know you followed me. Don't look so surprised. It's called a rearview mirror.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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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.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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The Patch I knew didn't run from anyone.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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He tasted deeper, holding himself over me, and suddenly he was everywhere his knee trapping my leg, his lips grazing warm, rough, sensuous. He splayed his hand at the small of my back, holding me tightly, driving me to sink my fingers deeper into him, clinging to him as if letting go would mean losing part of myself.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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You smell good. It's called a shower. Soap, shampoo, water- Naked. I know the drill.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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He cracked a slight smile, but it didn’t look amused. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. You’re looking a little deranged, Angel. We’ll go together.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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Patch stood over me, and a drop of rain slid from his hair, landing like ice on my collarbone. I felt it slide along my skin, disappearing beneath the neckline of my shirt. His eyes followed the raindrop, and I began to quiver on the inside.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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He was abominable...and the most alluring, tortured soul I'd ever met.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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If you can't feel then why did you kiss me? Because I can feel it here, in my heart.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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Your name?” I repeated, hoping it was my imagination that my voice faltered. “Call me Patch. I mean it. Call me
Becca Fitzpatrick