Quote

I need to get back to work,” Patch said. He gave me a once-over that lingered a bit below the hips. “Killer skirt. Deadly legs.

Becca Fitzpatrick

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Becca Fitzpatrick
Age: 45
Born: 1979
Born: February 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
Centerville
Utah
Work
Killers
Hips
Lingered
Legs
Skirt
Gave
Patch
Bits
Skirts
Back
Patches
Need
Killer
Needs
Deadly

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If I'd wanted you dead five minutes ago, you'd have died five minutes ago.
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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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I missed you, Angel. Not one day went by that I didn't feel you missing from my life. You haunted me to the point that I began to believe Hank had gone back on his oath and killed you. I couldn't escape you and I didn't want to. You tortured me, but it was better than losing you.
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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.
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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.
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Ready? Despite the grim mood, I smiled and cracked my knuckles. Ready to wrestle with my gorgeous boyfriend? Oh, I'd say I'm ready for that. Amusement softened his eyes. I'll try to control where I put my hands, but in the heat of things, who knows what could happen? I added. Patch grinned. Sounds promising.
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You dress to impress, I said approvingly. No, Angel. He leaned in, his teeth softly grazing my ear. I undress to impress.
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You’re not going to drive me home?” I asked. A waste of breath, since I knew her answer. “There’s fog.” “Patchy fog.” Vee grinned. “Oh, boy. He is so on your mind. Not that I blame you. Personally, I’m hoping I dream about him tonight.
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This was it. Together. Forever. As we left it all behind, the sun warmed my back, lighting the way before us. I knew of no better omen.
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Patch smiled. “You come by your red hair naturally?” I stared at him. “I don’t have red hair.” “I hate to break it to you, but it’s red. I could light it on fire and it wouldn’t turn any redder.
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He's got the whole bad-boy-in-need-of-redemption thing going on, but the catch is, most bad boys don't want redemption. They like being bad. They like the power they get from striking fear and panic into the hearts of mothers everywhere
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I'll be firm, I promised Patch, adopting a no-nonsense expression. No backing down. By now Patch was full-on grinning. He kissed me again, and I felt my mouth soften its resolve. You look cute when you're trying to be tough, he said.
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I didn’t break his jaw, but if he lays a hand on you, it will be the first of many things to break,” Patch said.
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The sensible part of me wanted to dissect my emotions, overthinking and overcomplicating my reaction to Jev.
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Vee lowered her lashes and smiled wickedly. This class isn't going to teach me anything I don't already know. Vee? As in virgin? Not so loud. She winked just as the bell rang, sending us both to our seats, which were side by side at our shared table.
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Sometimes bad things have to happen before good things can.
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I need to brush my teeth. And I need a shower. He grinned, hopping off the bike. Now that is an invitation.
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But if the choice I have to make comes down to you or me, I choose you. I always have. All my love, Patch
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...I need a boyfriend. And to get a boyfriend, you have to look good. Doesn’t hurt to smell good too.
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