Those Three Little Words (The Vancouver Agitators, #2)

by Meghan Quinn

Never hurts a man’s ego to hear the woman he’s been lusting after for two years thinks he’s attractive. Nope, I’m going to keep that little nugget of info very close to my dick.

“For your information, from the moment I first met you, I’ve wanted to fuck you. Don’t believe it if you want”—my lips graze her ear—“but it’s fucking true. Those lips of yours, I’ve wanted to own them. Your tits, I’ve wanted to worship. And your pussy, I’ve wanted to taste it.”

“No,” I squeak out. “They were regular text messages.” Don’t fucking laugh, man. She will never, ever be able to look at you if you laugh. She will never forgive you. Remain neutral.

Why did she have to use the word flatus? I was doing fine keeping it together until she used that word. Now I can feel the grin spreading across my face. Trying to tamp it down, I say, “Everyone has gas.”

“I mean, we can make the most of it. Do you want a designated fart zone? Somewhere where you can take care of business, thus an area I know to avoid?”

Do you want a designated fart zone? Somewhere where you can take care of business, thus an area I know to avoid?”

Her eyes connect with mine and pin me with seriousness. “There will be no zone. Nothing. Do you hear me?”

I am carrying child,

“This is overwhelming for me, Penny. You have your parents to help navigate you through all of this. I don’t have that. I don’t have someone to guide me. And I’m so fucking scared that I’ll fuck this up. That I won’t be a father this baby deserves. I need someone to lean on, someone to guide me when I’m being an idiot.”

“Do you really think messing with his stuff is going to fix things?” “I’m not messing with his things. I’m nesting. Ever heard of it?” “I have, but you’re not nesting. You’re being vengeful.”

This was too much. And I don't mean that in a good way. She was being an outright bitch in this chapter.