Changing Lanes (Creekwood, #2)

by A. Marie

Late night reading is like a double-edged sword—it sounds relaxing until you fall into the right storyline preventing you from putting it down, no matter how tired you become—

“I like her unrestrained, man. You don’t tame girls like her, you embrace the beauty in their wild and adapt.” His gaze meets mine pointedly. “Or get eaten alive.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just, I don’t want you to leave yet. Every time you walk away it feels like you won’t come back. I, um, I hate that feeling.”

The problem is, there’s nowhere to hide when you’re running from yourself.

My eyes bore into hers, asking permission to take this one step further. Shit, maybe ten steps, I don’t know. Math sucks and I’ve lost count.

“Dude, she’ll be here. Looking at your watch isn’t gonna make her appear any faster.” “Oh, would you look at that? It’s half past fuck you.”

Without hesitation, Beckett reaches up, gripping his Bigfoot shirt at the top of his back and rips it over his head in one smooth motion. I love when guys do that. I love when Beckett does it more.

Better he learns it now—what’s yours is mine, but what’s mine is still mine until I say otherwise.

Not that my girl’s easy. She’s the definition of tough as shit, pain in the ass, fight me at every turn, beautiful fucking goddess, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.