“I coax my palm into his lapel in search of my wish, returning his feverish kisses.
"Checkmate, you son of a bug," I say against his mouth two seconds before my fingers find an empty pocket.
"Sleight of hand, blossom," he says right back. " 'Tis in fact in my pants pocket, if you'd like to search there.”
―
A.G. Howard,
Splintered