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Paperback
First published April 21, 2015



-“Hey, people keep telling me this neighborhood is really safe. But it's late. Can I drop you off at home?’
He braced a hand on the top of the car and leaned down. -“No. Grandma told me I'm too pretty to get into cars with strangers.”
My lips twitched.-“Grandma was lying through her teeth; You're just average.”
-“Do you know you have the perfect face for a nun—as if you have only prayers on your mind? And then there are those times when it all changes, and you look pornographically turned on.”
-“Do I look like that now?”
-“Yes.”
“When I have to take care of myself I imagine al the things I'd do to you,” he murmured against my lips. “And I think of all the sounds you'd make, from the first catch of your breath, to your screams when you come.”
-“It's very, very nice to make love to you, but exhausting it isn't.”
-“Clearly I'm doing something wrong.”
-You're not doing me enough—that's what you're doing wrong. You should keep at it until you break me.”

-“Praise the Lord, for a woman who can bring me to my knees.”
-What use do I have for a man on his knees?”
-Begging for a demonstration, aren't you? Open your legs for me.”
-“Would you like to see the engagement ring I picked out?”
Had I been dropped on my head, I couldn't have been more stunned.
-“Wh-what? Why?”
-“I'll tell you if you come up.”
It's a trap, shouted the Admiral Ackbar from Star Wars.
It's bullshit, said my common sense.
❝In Henry V, King Henry says to Kate, ‘You have witchcraft in your lips,’ Bennett murmured sleepily. “Do you know where you have witchcraft, Eva?”
“Do tell,” I answered archly, expecting him to heap praise on my private parts.
He pressed a kiss into my shoulder. “In your eyes.”
❞

Pain pinched my heart, the pain of being understood when I didn't wish to be, by someone who was only playing a game.
I couldn't meet his gaze, so I wrapped my arms about him and buried my face in the crook of his should, wanting only enough sensations to drown out any insidious feeling of need.


❝Everything he said about us always had that glossy patina of plausible deniability—compliments and declarations that were extravagant but ultimately insubstantial.
And I loved and hated them as Gollum loved and hated his precious.❞
That night, as I lay in bed, I reached for my phone.
'I love you too', I texted.
His reply came a minute later.
'In the immortal words of Han Solo, I know.'

Do not read this in public!"We were all fucked-up. And we were all fuckups by choice".
“Praise the Lord,” he murmured, slipping off my undies, “for a woman who can bring me to my knees.”