“You and your rugged sexuality better scoot over,” I whispered. “Unless you want to be responsible for making me pass out on this plane. I’m not sure that flight attendant knows CPR.”
“It’s okay,” he said, lowering his lips all the way to my ear so they touched my skin when he spoke. “I’m really good at mouth-to-mouth.”
Holy shit.”
“Nope,” I said, closing my eyes. I should probably go back to sleep. That sounded like a good idea. “I’m pretty sure it’s Dean’s rugged sexuality interfering with the machines.”
“He was wearing glasses. Who was he, Clark Kent? No one looked this good all the time. It just wasn’t possible.”
“I love you, Lauren Lindsay. I want to kiss you more than I want to breathe, but I don’t want you to think you’re just another notch in my belt. You’re not. You’re it for me. I want you to have everything and I want to make sure I’m good enough for you. You deserve more than who I was.”
“I’m so proud of you,” I said over her shoulder. “I’m so proud of you that I’m going to stop at the store on my way home.”
Callie pulled back. “Why?”
“Because,” I told her. “I’m going to bake you a cake.”
“You suck at baking,” she said.
This was true.
“Okay,” I said, “I’m going to buy you a cake.”
“Cool.”
“Lauren,” Kenzie managed finally as she dramatically fanned herself, and then me. “You did not just meet him last night.”
“No really,” I said when I could speak. “He kind of swept me off my feet. Literally.”
“The second our eyes met, I knew something has changed. Kenzie was right. He looked at me like he could see into my very soul, and it felt as if I couldn’t breathe.”
“I never wanted to kiss anyone more than I did when Dean Powell opened his beautiful, sleepy eyes and looked at me.”
“Unamused, Ushara went to pull the kettle from the stove and pour the tea. “That’s beside the point. And you forget that we’re Andarion. We don’t like scars on our males. They’re hideous and gross.” As she turned back, she caught the hurt and stricken expression on Jullien’s face. Too late, she remembered how many scars lined his body. “Jules…”
Completely somber, he moved away from her. “I should be going. I have an early shift.”
“Jullien?” But it was too late. He was out of her home before she could apologize.
“Mum? What happened?”
Furious at herself for being so thoughtless, she cupped her son’s chin and sighed. “I accidentally hurt his feelings. I forgot that Jullien has a lot of scars that bother him.”
“How could you forget?”
“’Cause I don’t see them, Vas. They don’t matter to me.” She brushed the hair back to look at his brow and was about to take him to the doctor to have it stitched when she realized that Jullien had already done it. “He stitched you?”
Vas nodded. “He did it so fast, I barely felt it.”
She should have known that Jullien wouldn’t have left with it unfinished. Sighing, she kissed Vas’s bandage and hated that she’d hurt Jullien’s feelings. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed.”
“Elora decided she was a fan of 501’s; something about the pucker between each button of button fly jeans drew the eye like a codpiece.”
“Strange as it may seem, there is nothing in which a young and beautiful female appears to more advantage than in the art of smoking.”
“The greatest revenge we will have is to go about our lives, raising our children, and finding happiness wherever we can.”
“In Sahara, orice om avea timpul, linistea si atmosfera necesara ca sa se regaseasca pe sine, sa priveasca in departare sau in propriul suflet, sa observe Natura care il inconjura si sa mediteze asupra lucrurilor pe care nu le stia mai mult decat prin mijlocirea cartilor sfinte. Dar acolo, in orase, in sate si chiar in minusculele catune berbere, nu aveai pace, nici timp, nici spatiu si erai ametit de zgomote si de problemele celorlalti, de glasurile si certurile celorlalti si aveai impresia ca era mult mai important ceea ce li se intampla altora decat ceea ce ti se putea intampla tie.”
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