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“That depends on within whom they explode.”
It took me too long to understand what this meant
“You might want to stop touching yourself. You’re starting to look like a murder victim; it’s giving me a fucking hard-on.”
Sir, please.
He wasn’t going to tell me what to do and expect me to follow his demands blindly.
You are in his house. What
Ovaries didn’t have brains, and Knox was about to have thirteen witches with PMS in his house,
Rip
“Did you just push pineapple into your pussy?” he asked, leaning against the door, studying me through heated eyes. “Did it work?” I demanded not bothering to deliberate at where I’d placed it, which wasn’t inside of my body—because that would be nasty. “No, not at all,” he confirmed huskily.
At this point nothing about this book is what I expected
