The Finish Line (The Ravenhood, #3)

by Kate Stewart

“I was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.” —Edgar Allan Poe

“No matter how we came to be, we were and still are. You stole my heart, and you let me love you with it, and you made damn sure I knew where its home was.”

Trying to reason with love is fucking pointless. It doesn’t care about your reasons, right or wrong. Love has no regard for circumstance, nor does it give a fuck what state it puts you in. It’s a relentless and unforgiving emotion that will never let you lie to yourself.

“I will kill anyone who threatens you. Anyone. I will fucking end them, Cecelia. I won’t think twice, and I won’t lose sleep over it.”

“I gave up control,” I counter. “Which is the hardest fucking thing for a man like me to do.” I step forward, and this time she doesn’t step back. I cup her face, her cheeks ice cold. “Because I want this, more than anything else. I want this, you, us.”

She’s completely clueless to the attention she’s getting. Or is she? Her to-do list makes that theory shit, but she won’t be fucking to-doing Greg. Not to-fucking-ever.

killed me haaha

“And so, I would very much appreciate it if you would stop fucking looking at my future as if she may be yours. The answer is no, Greg, she won’t be dining with you.”

“Don’t disrespect women, period. They’re twice as evolved as most men will ever be. Don’t take your shit out on them, either. It’s a sign of weakness, and they aren’t punching bags. They’re a sanctuary, and you need to figure that out quick.”

“Dis-moi contre qui me battre, et je me battrai jusqu’à ce qu’ils disparaissent.” Tell me who to fight. I will fight until they all go away. It’s when tears start to coat her cheeks that I gently lift her to my chest, her arms limp at her sides. “Dis-moi comment réparer cela. Dis-moi, mon amour. Je ferai n’importe quoi.” Tell me how to fix this. Tell me, my love. I’ll do anything.

“I guess I’ll always be the girl crying for the moon.”

“Je n’aime pas me réveiller sans toi. Je préférerais de loin me réveiller en toi.” I don’t like waking up without you. I would much rather wake up inside you.

“You know it’s rude to say things that others can’t understand.” Ignoring the self-important bitch, he keeps his focus on me. “Tu as l’air un peu stressée. Je peux t’aider à te détendre. Avec ma langue, et ta chatte.” You’re looking a little stressed. I can help you relax. With my tongue, and your pussy. Lips parting, I do my best to conceal my shock. “As-tu perdu la tête?” Have you lost your mind? “Pas ce que tu avais en tête? Après tu décideras où ira ma langue.” Not what you had in mind? Then you will decide where my tongue will go.

‘Don’t ever count on a man to realize his wrongs on your emotional timeline ’cause men always take way longer to come around and deal with their feelings. They’re emotionally stunted.’”

remember everything, Cecelia. Every word you said, every look you gave me. Your three kinds of laughs, the details of your dreams, the way your nostrils flare when you’re starting to get pissed. The sting of your slaps, the salt in your tears, the fit of your breasts in my hand. The feel of your mouth, the taste of your pussy, so which part do you need me to remind you of?”

“Trésor, I want to Halloweenie with you and Thanksgiving with you, and Christmas with you, but—”

hahaha

“Tobias, my love, I’m sorry, but there is no act of Halloweenie.” “Whatever,”

“Ma chatte. Mon corps. Ma femme. Mon cœur. Ma vie.” My pussy. My body. My woman. My heart. My life.

“I’m glad that you loved him, and I’m glad he knew what it felt like to be loved by you before he died, and it’s because of the way you love, Cecelia.”