Clarissa

“I squinted at the cue ball, then at the triangle of balls farther down the table.

“You’re a tiny bit off,” I said.

I felt him smile. “How much you want to bet?”

“Five dollars.”

I felt him give a soft shake of his head.

“Your jacket.”

“You want my jacket?”

“I want it off.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Hush, Hush

“I could get you to smile like that, and without sales tax."

I whirled around to find the real Patch standing in the fitting room behind me. He was wearing jeans and a snug white tee. His arms were folded loosely over his chest, and his black eyes smiled down at me.
Heat that wasn't entirely uncomfortable flushed through my body.

"I could make all kinds of pervert jokes right now," I quipped.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Silence

“You don’t deserve me,” he agreed. “You deserve better. But you’re stuck with me, and you might as well get over it.” Scooping me under him in one agile movement, he rolled on top of me, his black eyes all pirate. “I have no intention of letting you go easily, something to keep in mind. I don’t care if it’s another man, your mother, or the powers of hell trying to pry us apart, I’m not easing up and I’m not saying good-bye.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Finale

“All I can think about is bed.”
“We’re sharing the same thought.”
“You’re thinking about bed too?”
“I’m thinking about YOU in MY bed.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Finale