Mate (Bride, #2)

by Ali Hazelwood

“I, on the other hand, am a fucking delight.” I watch him unearth several pillows. “Does it not bother your back, Koen?” “You mean, the supermassive weight of my ego? No, it does not.”

“Word of advice, killer?” he murmurs. “Stubborn and stupid is just a couple letters’ difference.” “You’re not the best speller, are you?”

So maybe I don’t hate her. Maybe I sort of like her. It’s Misery’s fault if I have a thing for tall blondes who use fuck off humor to shield their true selves. I’ll write my sister a strongly worded email of condemnation.

“Has anyone told you that you’re kind of a nuisance, killer?” “A guy. Once or ten times.” I grin. “But I could be so much worse.”

Her laughter adjusts the spin of his atoms.

“Good and evil are wide brushes that can’t always paint the fine details of real life.

“Why are you being like this? I’ll be gentle. Am I not gentle?” “You mispronounced ‘annoying.’ ” “Oh, come on. I’m having fun.” “I wish I could say the feeling is mutual.”

He easily resigned himself to a lifetime without her, but… Simply put, he is unwilling to contemplate a universe in which she no longer exists.

Roses are red Violets are blue I’m about to undergo a period of enhanced sexual receptivity in which I will require the assistance of a compatible partner Could that perhaps be you?

“Koen. Where is the line?” “The line is everywhere, Serena.” A hollow laugh. His hand travels up my spine. Cups my nape. Our lips are closer than ever, but never meet. “My entire life is made of fucking lines. And you’re blowing past all of them.”

I cognitively reframe the concept of having sex: not an act with a beginning and an end, but a continuous exchange of pleasure and hushed words.