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Because the very last thing I need in my life is someone who makes me feel like there’s not enough oxygen in my lungs when I’ve only just caught my breath.
I want to know more about Winter Valentine. Like when that divorce is happening.
“Pretend you only have ten fucks to give—” “Oh, I think I remember this math problem from second grade.” He ignores my jibe and forges ahead. “And when you run out of fucks, you’re spent. Wrung out. Stretched too thin.”
“Winter. I’d have properly fucked you in the back room of that gas station if you’d asked me.”
“Contractual clarity has never made me harder.”
“I can’t wait to see how fucking pretty you look when you come with my name on your lips.”
I’m a bull rider and she’s a doctor. I’m fire and she’s ice.
His brow furrows and his face shows genuine confusion. It strikes me as unusual how he wears his heart on his sleeve, the way every emotion and thought almost prints itself on his face.
Theo was already hot as fuck, and Theo holding a baby is even hotter.
“That’s a fascinating assessment, Winter. But I’m not pretending a single fucking thing. Because for a year and a half all I’ve had to do is remember you and me that night to be stuck walking around all day like this.”
Because the things I dream about doing to you are horribly unprofessional.
“Because your wellbeing has quickly become my number one priority.”
“What’s happening is Miss Independent met the treat-her-like-a-princess guy, and she’s freaking out.”
Theo Dale Silva has wormed his way into my heart, and I never stood a chance at keeping him out.
“He said, ‘Mom, I met her.’ And I said, ‘Who?’” Loretta’s lips curve up, her eyes taking on a faraway look. “He said, ‘The woman I’m going to marry one day.’”
“Maybe I don’t care. Maybe I want to be messy with you forever.”
“I ride bulls for a living, so it’s not the first time I’ve been called crazy. I guess I’m just crazy enough to want my eight seconds on the frigid ice-queen sister too.”
“It’s like you respect me too much now. I get pity orgasms and pretty words. I want to be more than that. I want . . .” I observe the way she’s working this out. She’s not used to asking for what she wants. “I want you unhinged for me. Just . . . disrespect me. Just for a bit.” That night. My lips drag over the shell of her ear, and she shivers. “You’d like to be my pretty little slut tonight?”
“Dr. Hamilton in the streets, filthy slut in the sheets.” And I laugh. No one can make me laugh the way Theo Dale Silva does.
“Because you make me like myself . . . and you’re the only one who ever has.”
He finds me. He kisses me. He belongs to me.
“Am I fucking you like a princess or a slut later?” And just before she kisses me, she chuckles and responds with, “I don’t care as long as you fuck me like I’m yours.”
“Te vivo.”
“That night we were reckless.” His voice cracks. “But god, I’d be reckless with you over and over again if it means ending up here.”
