On Dublin Street

I know you love me, Jocelyn, because there’s no fucking way I can be this much in love with you, and not have you feel the same way. It’s not possible.

Babe, nice lingerie is for seducing a man. I’m already fucking seduced.

You’re good with the words, I’ll give you that.” “I’m good with my hands. Will you let me give you that?

I feel like I'm missing something really important when you're gone. So important I don't feel like myself. I've never felt like someone was mine before. But you're mine, Jocelyn. I've known that from the moment we met. And I'm yours. I don't want to be anyone else's, babe.

Asshole.” “Just for that, I expect you to wrap that dirty mouth of yours around my cock tonight.” He narrowed his eyes on me. I couldn’t believe he’d just said that to me in a fancy restaurant where anyone might overhear. “Are you kidding?” “Babe,” he gave me a look that suggested I was missing the obvious, “I never kid about blowjobs.” Our waiter had descended on us just in time to hear those romantic words and his rosy cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. “Ready to order?” he croaked out.“Yes,” Braden answered, obviously uncaring he’d been overhead. “I’ll have the steak, medium-rare.” He smiled softly at me. “What are you having?” He took a swig of water. He thought he was so cool and funny. “Apparently sausage.” Braden choked on the water, coughing into his fists, his eyes bright with mirth as he put his glass back on the table. “Are you okay, sir?” The waiter asked anxiously. “I’m fine, I’m fine.

Let me rephrase.” He took a seething step toward me. “When it comes to you… I don’t like to share.

I would say it was nice to meet you, but I was naked so… it wasn’t.

Gentlemen are gentlemen in bed. They make sure you're having a good time." "I'll make sure you're having a good time, and that you're okay with everything. I just won't be well mannered about it.

I just noticed a lack of ego in the room and thought ‘hey, where’s Braden?

I love you. You’re mine. I’ll kill any bastard who tries to take you from me.

I miss someone who gets me. I called a woman on my research team a bitch – you know in a friendly way – and she told me to go to hell. And I think she really meant it.” “Rhian, we’ve talked about this. Normal people don’t like to be called names. For some reason, they tend to take is personally. And you are a tad bitchy, by the way. “Normal people are so sensitive.

I wanted to create something beautiful in place of all the ugliness.

We fuck, we have fun, and then we spoon. I don’t go home...

Braden, I don't want anything to happen between us." He raised his eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Tell that to your damp knickers, babe.

I was washing the dishes and the sneaky bastard crept up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. And kissed me. Right here.” I pointed angrily to my neck. “Can I not have him committed or something?” Dr. Pritchard snorted. “For loving you?” I drew back, shaking my head in disgust. “Dr. Pritchard,” I admonished softly. “Whose side are you on?” “Braden’s.

Why the hell did he have be the human version of a sexually charged nuclear weapon?

Sometimes words aren’t needed for you to know a change has come upon you.

You’re living off your parent’s money? At your age?” Oh no she didn’t. I took another drink and then smiled at her in warning as if to say, ‘don’t play this game with me, sweetheart, you won’t win.’ She didn’t heed the warning. “So they pay for everything? Doesn’t that make you feel guilty?” Every fucking day. “Was it your money that bought those Louboutin’s… or Braden’s?

In truth it’s difficult to describe a broken heart.

Sure it could get rough sometimes, but life wasn't a Hollywood movie. Shit happened. You fought, you screamed, and somehow you worked like hell to get out the other side still intact.

Sometimes the clouds weren't weightless. Sometimes their bellies got dark and full. It was life. It happened. It didn't mean it wasn't scary, or that I wasn't still afraid, but now I knew that as long as I was standing under it with Braden beside me when those clouds broke, I'd be alright. We'd get rained on together. Knowing Braden he'd have a big ass umbrela to shelter us from the worst of it. That there was an uncertain future I could handle.

After last night, there’s no denying the promise of what’s between us. I’m not backing off, so rather than coming up with a new defence – which I’m sure I’d find highly entertaining – just give in, babe. You know you’re going to eventually.

I don't like to share," he murmured. "Braden, I'm not yours." "For the next three months you are. I mean it, Jocelyn. No one else touches you.

You know, it's a wonder I managed to squeeze into the room what with your giant-assed ego taking up all the space.

You know on those nature shows when the cute little meerkat is strolling along on its four cute little meerkat legs to get back to her burrow where all her little meerkat politics, drama and family await her, and this big-ass eagle comes swooping overhead…? The smart little meerkat runs for cover and waits that big-ass eagle out. Some time passes, and the meerkat finally decides the eagle got bored and went off to scare the crap out of some other cute little meerkat. So, the meerkat crawls out from her hidey-hole to carry merrily on her way. And just when that little meerkat thought she was home free, that big-ass eagle swoops down and catches her in his big-ass claws. Well… I know exactly how that little meerkat felt…

Point made. Question deflected. Spoiled bitch put in her pace.

I'm making a list of things that make you agreeable." I scoffed, pushing my foot into his leg. "And all you got is sex and vacations?" "The length of the list is not my fault." "Are you saying I'm disagreeable?" He raised an eyebrow. "Woman, how stupid do you think I am? You really think I'm answering that? I want to get laid tonight?" I pushed him harder. "Watch it, or you might get laid to rest." Braden threw his head back and laughed.

Was I shy? No. Not shy. Just, usually blissfully indifferent. I liked it that way. It was safer.

He made a noise of disgruntlement. “It’s a bloody picnic. Sit. Eat. Shut up.