Sammy

“Why are you such an ass?" The words came out before I could think twice.
"Everyone has to excel at something, right?"
"Well, you're doing a great job.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Obsidian

“I swear, if you touch me, I’ll go Lorena Bobbitt on you.” Lorena Bobbitt? Why does that sound—oh my God, the lady that chopped off her husband’s dick? I busted out laughing and put my pillow over my face. “Oh my God! Princess! You’re my new favorite!” That’s it, that comment right there, and it was sealed. I would do anything to have this beautiful gray-eyed princess lying next to me, as mine.”
― Molly McAdams, Stealing Harper

“My palms itched to have a close encounter of the bitch-slap kind with his face.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Obsidian

“For a moment, I pretended. Not that we weren't two different species, because I didn't see him that way, but that we actually liked each other.

And then he shifted and rolled. I was on my back, and he was still on the move. His face burrowed into the space between my neck and shoulder, nuzzling. Sweet baby Jesus...Warm breath danced over my skin, sending shivers down my body. His arm was heavy against my stomach, his leg between mine, pushing up and up. Scorched air fled my lungs.

Daemon murmured in a language I couldn't understand. Whatever it was, it sounded beautiful and soft. Magical. Unearthly.

I could've woken him up but for some reason I didn't. The thrill of him touching me was far stronger than anything else.

His hand was on the edge of the borrowed shirt, his long fingers on the strip of exposed flesh between the hem on the shirt and the band of the worn pajama bottoms. And his hand inched up under the shirt, across my stomach, where it dipped slightly. My pulse went into cardiac territory. The tips of his fingers brushed my ribs. His body moved, his knee pressed against me.

I gasped.

Daemon stilled. No one moved. The clock on the wall ticked.

And I cringed.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Obsidian