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“Don’t worry, gorgeous. I’m just using your phone. I’m not going to murder you.”
“Marry me,” I say instantly.
“Well, you were looking at me like you wanted me to kiss you.” His blue eyes become heavy-lidded. “So I was thinking I might do that.”
“Because I’ve been thinking nonstop about how I didn’t make you come last time.” I shrug. “And how badly I want to change that.”
“Did we not just establish that my ego is fragile?”
This ain’t about us, bro. Only her.
“Before the accident, it was an addiction. Now I think it’s a purpose.”
He’s the man who drove me to hockey practice, rain or shine. Who helped me memorize my multiplication tables and taught me how to tie my shoes.
“Happy birthday, gorgeous.”
Our gazes lock for one heart-stopping moment, and then he does the absolute last thing I expect. He leans down and kisses me.
“Face your fear for me? I promise, it’ll be worth it.”
think that’s all they really wanted, anyway. For someone to listen.”
“Well, this has been fun, but I think I’ll go upstairs and kill myself now.”
Like, find a rope and tie it around your neck and hang your fucking self silence,
Dude, you don’t want me. You want me and Garrett.”
Then what are you doing lusting over a relationship?” He arches a brow. “Yeah, she told me.”
“Oh, he’s joining the team,” Dean declares. “I don’t care if I have to suck his dick to get him to agree to it.”
“I love it when you talk homonyms to me.”
She’s in the backseat of Garrett’s Jeep, because I don’t believe in the automatic-shotgun-for-girlfriends rule and therefore
called shotgun before she could.
“I take it we’re wooing again tonight?” he says wryly. Damn right we are.
“Kiss me,” he murmurs again, and my control snaps.
Him: What if I don’t want any visitors? Me: Srsly? After all your “wooing” you’re really gonna say no?
“And then he insisted that I need to give you a chance, because you’re a—” I angrily air-quote Morris’s words “—‘stand-up guy who deserves another shot.’”
I didn’t ask him to, but clearly he grasps what you refuse to see.” “Yeah, and what’s that?” I mutter. “That you and I are perfect for each other.”
Oh, and just the sight of you gets me hard.” I swallow a laugh. “What else?”
And that’s not even the craziest item on Grace’s list.
The little brat texted me not one, not two, but six tasks to complete before she agrees to a date.
“What if I steal the words to ‘Amazing Grace’?
ponder the next line. “How sweet…” “Your ass,” Tucker supplies.
“Call my girlfriend a ho one more time and you won’t have a bro.”
How do you feel about glitter? And dick pics?
but he said you’d consider that cheating and deprive him of your love.”
“And by long time, I mean five whole minutes,
“So.” I blink innocently. “What time should I pick you up tomorrow night?”
“How come you don’t ask me about hockey?”
“Well. Um. The thing is…” I inhale, then continue with rapid-fire speed. “Imnotahockeyfan.”
“You couldn’t have told me this before I asked you out? What are we even doing here, Grace? I can never marry you now—it would be blasphemous.”
“You’ve gone too far, woman.”
He wound up at one of Beau’s parties, the two of them recognized the man-slut in each other, and they’ve been friends ever since.”
“Ha. Who’s jealous now?”
“Not me,” I lie. “You totally are.” She inches closer and plants a loud kiss on my lips. “Don’t be. I have a boyfriend, remember?” “Damn right you do.”
That’s a very specific form of violence.
I think I might be falling in love with her.
And go down on you, if you’re in the mood for a John Logan orgasm.”
Deflower me.”
“Shut your mouth, woman.”
Smug bastards. I know exactly what’s going through their heads—a singsong taunt. Lo-gan has a girrrrl-friend.
they’re disgustingly in love, and anyone can see it.
Don’t know if that’s a good idea, babe. I’m in a lousy mood. Me: Fine. Then I’ll cheer you up. Him: Not sure if you can. Me: Still gonna try.
