Med

“He’s hurt. The prodigal son. The posh prince, still standing after he fought not just one, but two boys off of me.”
― Monica Murphy, Things I Wanted to Say

“Whit always reminds me of the statues in the campus gardens. Beautiful. Perfect. Cold. Heartless. Seeing him now, the untouchable god among us peons, broken…bleeding. Human.”
― Monica Murphy, Things I Wanted to Say

“He grins. There’s blood staining his teeth, reminding me of a beautiful devil. A fallen angel. As if he can read my mind, he spreads his arms out, looking like he might take flight. His position only emphasizes how soaked through his white shirt is, and I can see his flesh beneath. The dark shadow of his nipples. The muscle and sinew, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes raggedly.”
― Monica Murphy, Things I Wanted to Say

“Do I scare you?” he whispers. Deciding to be truthful, I nod. “Good,” he breathes across my lips, his mouth so close to mine, I can feel it move when he talks. “Because you scare me too.”
― Monica Murphy, Things I Wanted to Say