"That dress…was a very, very good decision. I could write an entire poem on the virtues of your legs alone. You are a feast for the senses.” I laughed. “I don’t know about a feast. Maybe just an hors d'oeuvre.” He took my hand and wrapped it around his arm. “Not an hors d'oeuvre. The dessert. And I plan to spoil my appetite."
"The fuse is lit. You can run all you want to but you leave a trail of gunpowder in your wake. There’s going to be a reckoning eventually."
"Were you always such a stubborn, blind, obtuse girl?”“Are you calling me stupid?”“Yes, but in a more poetic way!”“Well, here’s a poem for you. Get lost!"
"You don’t take away my choices. You are my choice."
"Were you always such a stubborn, blind, obtuse girl?”“Are you calling me stupid?”“Yes, but in a more poetic way!”“Well, here’s a poem for you. Get lost!"
"There was a large sting near his upper lip. I touched it lightly. “Does it hurt?”My gaze moved from his lips up to his eyes. He was looking at me in a way that made me blush.“Yes,” he responded quietly."