“Cause all you gotta know is, it's gonna be you and only you until the day I die... You're not just enough for me. You're everything I want.”
“You think I’m a man who’s got a thing that good, he’ll let it go?”
“No,” I whispered.
“That would be fuck no,” he corrected.”
“Baby, you stare at my dick any longer, Miss Mildred’s gonna have to send out a search party.”
… “I was staring at your hip muscles,” I corrected.
“Whatever,” he muttered, his lips now smiling too, then louder, “just sayin’, anything in that vicinity, your eyes on it, it’ll get thoughts on its own.”
“So noted,” I mumbled.”
“If you’re the kind of woman who can withstand the blaze of hellfire he’s got burning inside, he battles that and wins, you will know nothing for the rest of your life, no taste, no experience, not even the birth of your children that will be sweeter than the love he’ll have for you.”
“You do it for me because you were the girl across the street, your hair shining in the sun, laughing, making me fall in love with you, and I didn't even goddamned fucking know you.”
“He backed me into a wall, caging me in, got in my face and explained he is most definitely into me.”
When I was done speaking, her lips were parted and her eyes were glazed.
“KC?” I called when she didn’t say anything.
“Shh,” she shushed me. “I’m having an orgasm.”
“Then how's this? You ignite for me, but more, you make me ignite for you. And no woman, not in my whole goddamned life, has made me ignite the way you do.”
“How into you do you think I am?”
“Honey, you crawled around on all fours in a pet store, totally unable to cope with bein’ in my space. You’re seriously into me.”
“You,that dress, those shoes, that hair, beverages and furniture you can get horizontal on would not be a good combination.”
“I was concentrating on taking in all this fabulousness so I might have missed the full orgasm, but I was relatively certain I had a mini one.
Then he smiled.
There it was.
The full orgasm.
It was a wonder I didn’t moan.”
“I'll be contacting Webster tomorrow. My suggestion will be absofuckingmazing.”
“You called her a cunt,” I reminded him.
“He threw out a hand, his brows shooting up. “Were you not just here? She is a cunt.”
This was not debatable. I didn’t even know why I brought it up.”
“Babe, tell me right now you aren’t fuckin’ with me.”
“I’m kind of fucking with you in the hopes that you’ll return the favour,” I replied.”
“Am I gonna traumatize the fat cat if he sees me fuckin' you?"
"As you know, his name is Spot, and he's immune to trauma. You can't feel it if your life is devoted to dishing it out.”
“We went to the double feature last night”…
“My recollection, it was a triple,” Raiden muttered.”
“It was then Raiden Ulysses Miller scorched me a second time, but I didn't battle this blaze. There was no pain. But that didn't mean I didn't end up branded.”
“I know, child. What do you think's keeping me on this earth? Not easy to let go that kind of love. That kind of love's got the power to hold you tethered to a world you should have left a long time ago.”
“She stared into his eyes and announced, “A good-bye kiss.”
It was at that Raid stopped dead. “What?”
“Raiden, the gig is up,” she declared, and Raid closed his eyes.
Jesus, how could the woman be so infuriating and so fucking cute all at once?
He opened his eyes and asked, “The gig is up?”
She leaned into him and hissed, “Yes.”
Fuck, he wanted to kiss her.
He also wanted to shake her.
“Baby, it’s jig,” he corrected, and her head jerked, which made that mess of hair on her head jerk, which reminded him he wanted his hands in that hair.
Then elsewhere.
He needed to speed this shit up.
“Sorry?” she asked, sounding confused, and he looked from her hair to her eyes and saw she was, in fact, confused.
Yeah. Infuriating. And fucking cute.
“The jig is up, not the gig,” he told her.
Her eyes narrowed. “Seriously? You’re correcting my street lingo?”
“Think that street lingo was the street lingo about eight decades ago, Hanna. So now it’s just lingo.”
“Raiden is a silly-@ss romance novel hero’s name my Mom came up with to torture me,” he replied.
I stifled a giggle and remarked, “And Raid isn’t silly?”
He smiled. “Raid’s a bad@ss’s name.”
“He called me baby. I didn’t look to confirm, and I was glad he didn’t either, seeing as I was relatively certain my nipples were now hard.”
“Don’t get ideas. That boy’s behind won’t mount a bike, precious. He might blow one up in a military exercise, but he’s not gonna ride alongside you while you mosey into town and pick up salad fixin’s for dinner.”
“So you get I’m into you”
“Quiet, babe, i got some issues to work through”
“She knew you'd know nothing sweeter than the love I give you."
"Was she right?"
"Absolutely.”
“This is what you have to learn. Don’t backtalk. Don’t explain. Don’t protest. Don’t fight it out. Just say, ‘All right, honey,’ and do whatever the hell you want. For example, just this morning, Mark said, ‘Make tacos tonight, babe,’ before he kissed me good-bye. No ‘please’. No, ‘are you feeling like tacos?’ Just ‘make them.’” She tipped her head to the side. “Now, are we having tacos?” She shook her head. “Hell no. We had tacos two days ago. I get he loves my tacos, but eff that. My friend is coming over and I just had tacos. Furthermore, I have to make the damn things. So we’re having a roast. You serve company a good roast. Not freaking tacos.”
“Coulda knocked me over with a feather, the front bell went and I opened the door to that tall drink of cool water. Woke up and I knew it was a good day. Felt it in my bones. Opened the door to him, glad I was right.”
“Meg spends her days at a shit job she hates and spends most of the rest of her time working out and starving herself, so she’s usually in a bitchy mood because she pretty much hates her life, but definitely needs a sandwich. Contradicting that shit, she doesn’t have a problem pouring alcohol down her throat and smoking a shitload of grass, which gives her the munchies she refuses to give into, thus the vicious cycle with her bein’ a bitch and makin’ the mellowing qualities of pot lost on her.”
“The name of the human who is written in this note shall die.”
“Such a small thing to cause so much trouble.”
“Suddenly the clouds seem high above us. They’re moving over us in an arch, circling the planet. They have seen abysmal oceans and charred, scorched islands. They have seen how we destroyed the world. If I could see everything, as the clouds do, would I swirl around this remaining continent, still so full of color and life and seasons, wanting to protect it? Or would I just laugh at the futility of it all, and meander onward, down the earth’s sloping atmosphere?”
“I was its king once, a long time ago, when the great gods decided to send the Flood. Five gods decided, and they took an oath to keep the plan secret: Anu their father, the counselor Enlil, Ninurta the gods’ chamberlain, and Ennugi the sheriff. Ea also, the cleverest of the gods, had taken the oath, but I heard him whisper the secret to the reed fence around my house. ‘Reed fence, reed fence, listen to my words. King of Shuruppak, quickly, quickly tear down your house and build a great ship, leave your possessions, save your life. The ship must be square, so that its length equals its width. Build a roof over it, just as the Great Deep is covered by the earth. Then gather and take aboard the ship examples of every living creature.”
“Where's your car? Miles asks, glancing at him as he slams his door shut and slings his backpack over his shoulder. "And whats up with your hand?"
"I got rid of it," Damen says, gaze fixed on mine. Then glancing at Miles and seeing his expression he adds, "The car, not the hand."
"Did you trade it in?" I ask, but only because Miles is listening. [...]
He shakes his head and walks me to the gate, smiling as he says, "No, I just dropped off on the side of the road, key in the ignition, engine running."
"Excuse me?!" Miles yelps. "You mean to tell me that you left your shiny, black, BMW M6 Coupe—by the side of the road?"
Damen nods.
But thats a hundred-thousand-dollar car!" Miles gasps as his face turns bright red.
"A hundreds and ten." Damen laughs. "Don't forget, it was fully customized and loaded with options."
Miles stares at him, eyes practically bugging out of his head, unable to comprehend how anyone could do such a thing—why anyone would do such a thing. "Um, okay, so let me get this straight—you just woke up and decided—Hey, what the hell? I think I'll just dump my ridiculously expensive luxury car by the side of the road—WHERE JUST ANYONE CAN TAKE IT?"
Damen shrugs. "Pretty much."
"Because in case you haven't noticed," Miles says, practically hyperventilating now. "Some of us are a little car deprived. Some of us were born with parents so cruel and unusual they're forced to rely on the kindness of friends for the rest of their lives!"
"Sorry." Damen shrugs. "Guess I hadn't thought about that. Though if it makes you feel any better, it was all for a very good cause.”
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