Gabby

“Look at the time." I tipped my chin toward the clock. "It's past midnight. It's January second. You lost."
For several moments he stared at the clock like it was an Arum he was about to blast into the next county and then his eyes found mine. Daemon smiled. "No. I didn't lose. I still won.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Onyx

“Demon pox, oh, demon pox,
Just how is it acquired?
One must go down to the bad part of town
Until one is very tired.
Demon pox, oh, demon pox I had it all along—
No, not the pox, you foolish blocks,
I mean this very song—
For I was right, and you were wrong!”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“Thanks,” I muttered and added under my breath, “Douchebag.”

He laughed, deep and throaty. “Now that’s not very ladylike, Kittycat.”

I whipped around. “Don’t ever call me that,” I snapped.

“It’s better than calling someone a douchebag, isn’t it?” He pushed out the door. “This has been a stimulating visit. I’ll cherish it for a long time to come.”

Okay. That was it. “You know, you’re right. How wrong of me to call you a douchebag. Because a douchebag is too nice of a word for you,” I said, smiling sweetly. “You’re a dickhead.”

“A dickhead?” he repeated. “How charming.”

I flipped him off.”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Obsidian

“Cookie?" he offered, holding a cookie full of chocolate chips.
Upset tummy or not, there was no way I could refuse that. "Sure."
His lips tipped up one side and he leaned toward me, his mouth inches from mine. "Come and get it."
Come and get...? Daemon placed half the cookie between those full, totally kissable lips.
Oh, holy alien babies everywhere...”
― Jennifer L. Armentrout, Onyx