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He gave me his word. That means something to a man like Donovan Caine. Yeah, it means you'll realize he's an exceptionally good liar when you're clutching your intestines and choking on your own blood on his living room floor.
Jennifer Estep
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Jennifer Estep
Age: 24
Born: 2000
Born: January 1
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Now, back to my vacation idea.” Finn grinned, showing off his perfect white teeth. “Just think about it. You, Owen, me, and Bria, all happily ensconced in a swanky hotel by a beautiful beach. Bria in a bikini. You and Owen doing your own thing, Bria in a bikini. Did I mention Bria in a bikini?
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Are you OK? I asked. I think so. Logan stared at me, and a smile pulled up his lips. But maybe you should give me mouth-to-mouth, just to make sure.
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I know that look. What are you up to, Gwen? What makes you think I'm up to something? The Valkyrie snorted. You're breathing, aren't you?
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You're mine, Not his. Mine. Only mine. Always mine.
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Well, what did you have for lunch?” I snapped. “Surely that’s not top secret superhero information.” “Steak with mashed potatoes and a side salad,” Striker replied. “And a piece of chocolate cheesecake for dessert.” I gave up on conversation after that. I was too jealous of the cheesecake to continue.
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Oh yes. You’ve caught me. I confess. My sole purpose in life is to gleefully, willfully, maniacally destroy all of your precious chrome babies.
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Jasmine smirke at the weapon in my hand. That little toothpick won't save you, Gypsy. Touthpick? Vic muttered in an indignant voice. “Did she just call me a bleeding toothpick? Kill her! Kill her now!
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My heart lifted, and a matching grin curved my lips. He wanted to see me again. Maybe he really did like me after all. I felt like doing a happy dance, but of course, I was way too cool for that. I'd at least wait until I got back to my hotel room, alone, where no one would see.
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They’d played “Sweet Home, Alabama” so many times I wanted to crash the party, kill the radio, and knife whoever was selecting the music.
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Etiquette? What kind of etiquette was there in someone trying to murder me?
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Can you play the piano like Beethoven? Or sing like Carly Simon? Can you take fie pages' worth of quotes and turn them into a usable story ten minutes before deadline? I don't think so, unless you have more hidden talents I don't know about. We all have our special sills. They don't make us better or worse than each other. Just different
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You're just jealous. Hardly. Been there, done you. Adequate, but unremarkable.
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The two men stared at each other. Assumptions were made, judgments rendered, dicks measured.
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It didn't take long for the anger to put the happiness in a headlock.
Jennifer Estep
And that's when I snapped up my left hand and smashed him in the face with the hammer I'd grabbed.
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Finn did what he always did when confronted by an angry woman—he checked out her boobs.
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I eat haughty, arrogant, manipulative, self-important bitches like you for breakfast, sugar. And then I go back for seconds.
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Y’all might as well come on out,” I said. “I know you’re there. I can smell you.” “Smell me? But I just took a shower this morning!” an indignant voice drifted out of the shadows. There was a loud sound, like someone was getting smacked upside the head. Then another voice let out a low mutter. “Shut up, idiot.
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Hey, are you okay?”he asked “Nickamedes told me what happened with Preston. He and the others were worried about you. They’re out looking for you, along with Daphne, Carson, and Oliver.”I let out a bitter laugh.“I must have really freaked them out if Nickamedes was worried about me.
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But I'd much rather face a dozen assassins like LaFleur any night than deal with something as tricky, convoluted, and fragile as my feelings.
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