Emma

“Vi?" Jag's soft voice called from the other room. I'd been soaking so long, the water in the tub was cold. I stepped out, careful not to get the book wet, and wrapped a towel around myself.
"In here," I whispered. He had switched the lamp on and was rubbing his eyes when I came into the bedroom.
"Hey."
I slipped the book back onto the table next to his bed. "I didn't get it wet."
"Not. That." His eyes raked over my only-towel-covered body with a hungry expression.
"Knock it off." I pulled the towel tighter and returned to the bathroom. He followed me, putting his hand on the door before I could close it. I looked anywhere but at him. Lying fully clothed in bed with him was bad enough.
I couldn't help it when I drank him in, starting at his feet and slowly creeping up to his neck, past his chin, lips, nose to his eyes. When I finally reached them, my heart clutched almost painfully. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat, playing with the end of my towel.
"Vi, babe-"
"Don't talk like that," I said.
He smiled his Jag-winner. I took a shuddering breath and tried to focus. "Don't smile like that either. It's not fair."
"Okay, then. Let's talk about being fair." He carefully wove his fingers through mine. The way he studied the ground was adorable. He took a few slow steps back into the bedroom, pulling me with him.
"Jag-”
― Elana Johnson, Possession

“I miss you so much my lungs have forgotten how to breathe.”
― Elana Johnson, Possession

“He grinned. “Busted. I’m a monster. Jev is my deceptively harmless — and shockingly handsome — alter ego.”

“And I’m on top of it,” she announced with witty triumph.

“Is that a Freudian slip?”

His bluntness caught her off guard. A self-conscious blush rose in her face.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Silence

“One last thing," he said. "Stop looking for me."

"I'm not looking for you." I scoffed.

He touched his index finger to my forehead, my skin absurdly warming under his touch. It didn't escape me that he couldn't seem to stop finding reasons to touch me. Nor did I miss that I didn't want him to stop. "Under all the layers, a part of you remembers. It's the part that came looking for me tonight. It's that part that's going to get you killed, if you're not careful."

We stood face-to-face, both of us breathing hard. The sirens were so close now.

"What am I supposed to tell the police?" I said.

"You're not going to talk to the police."

"Oh, really? Funny, because I plan on telling them exactly how you rammed that tire iron into Gabe's back. Unless you answer my questions."

He gave an ironic snort. "Blackmail? You've changed, Angel.”
― Becca Fitzpatrick, Silence