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he wore the kind of scruff that was only a few days short of declaring itself a proper beard, and it all fit together in a way that made me think he woke up in the morning and checked off items on his Wickedly Successful Businessman Style Guide.
“If you think for one second that I won’t pick you up and carry you out of here, you’re dead wrong and I fucking dare you to test me.”
“And I’m going to use these perfect thighs of yours as earmuffs so I don’t have to hear any more of your heckling.”
Yes. No. Sometimes. Ask me when I’m not touching you.
The last thing I realized tonight—and by far the most important—was that I was almost completely certain I’d fallen in love with Sunny somewhere between yelling at her about flowerpots and being happy that she liked the ravioli, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
“Let me have it,” Beck panted. “Let me have you. Let me keep you.” I clenched around him, saying, “Yes, yes, yes, yes.”
Since I wasn’t content to ask Sunny to marry me just the one time today, I said, “So, I was thinking we could take the boat out tonight and go down to—”
