Wretched (Never After, #3)

by Emily McIntire

this guy intrigues me. Plus, he’s hot, and quite frankly, I’m horny.

I got put on a new job today that’s taking me out of town, so we’re ‘celebrating’ one last time.” “I’d probably celebrate too if you were leaving.”

What if we crash because your tiny feet in those ridiculous eighteen-inch heels can’t feel the pedals?” “They’re six inches.” Her eyes drift to my lap as she starts the car. “But I’m not surprised you’d exaggerate.”

“Jesus, pretty girl. You could ruin lives with a smile like that.”

I was definitely planning on causing you serious bodily harm when I came here. I’m still not one-hundred-percent sure I won’t.” “Wow. Romantic.”

I do love wearing heels. I’ll admit they aren’t the most practical of shoes, but when you’re five foot two and in the realm of dangerous men, it’s important to have everything you can use at your disposal. And stilettos hurt when you stab them into flesh.

years of wounds that haven’t been healed, just bandaged with sarcasm and sadness, forming mutilated scar tissue that still oozes when pricked.

Let me guess, you’re fucking that Brayden guy?” “I—what? No…” I shake my head. “Well, yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t want to fuck. I mean, I do, obviously, but not right now.”

I don’t think I knew what home was until I found it in her.

“My whole life I’ve lived for other people,

Then I came to Ireland, and I fell in love, knowing I’d never leave. Not that I could anyway, considering I’m a fugitive.