Lips Like Sugar (Bluebird Basin, #2)

by Jess K. Hardy

“I tried to tell you.” He smirked, stepping back to reveal a black footprint on the street. Fresh flakes fell quickly, eager to fill it up, erase it like he’d never been there at all. “I am a blast at weddings.”

I visited my former favorite bakery today and was neither grabbed nor kissed. Very disappointing. Zero stars.

Only sex? She wanted them to only have meaningless, emotionless, robot sex? The fuck we will. He’d told her he understood, but that didn’t mean he agreed with her. Because he didn’t. At all. He was already a proud resident of Emotionland. He’d popped a tent after Madigan’s wedding, built a house when she’d sent him tarts, and dug out a football field–sized bunker when she’d led him into her bedroom. And now? Fuck it. He was running for mayor.

“Mira,” he groaned, dropping his head because holding it up was impossible. “You feel so good.” This was such a colossal understatement it bordered on an outright lie. Good? A fresh shave felt good. A warm bath felt good. Being inside Mira Harlow fucked him up. It rearranged his atoms, altered his molecular structure.

“I gave her my heart.” He cleared the thickness from his throat, staring at the pretty pink box on his passenger seat. “And she gave me a cupcake.”