I’d rather have one day with you than an eternity with anyone else.
Oh, dear God. Ying and Yang really had it right when it came to intimate touch. Gentle, hard. Soft, rough. Since.
IF A BRAIN could shrivel up and die from too much contemplation, mine was dangerously close to living out the rest of its days as a pruney, gray raisin.
There’s a problem with your whole ever-after theory, you know.” Besides me bringing it up with you? “What problem?” “Most glues will hold for a while but won’t stand the test of time. Most give out. There are very few kinds that can keep two broken things together forever.” I caught myself smiling, though I clearly should have been doing the opposite. “That’s why you have to hold out for the good stuff.
So much for all those sweet county boy manners I thought you had.
You’re worth ever bead of sweat and every groan of frustration. You’re worth the work, you’re worth the wait, you’re worth everything I have to give you.” I moved closer, so our foreheads were pressed together, our eyes aligned. “So make me work for it. Make me work hard for it. I will. You won’t hear one complaint from me working myself to the bone for you. Not one.
You’ve always been the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Clara.” The backs of his fingers ran down the length of my cheek. “That still hasn’t changed.
But you make the rest hard too. Make me work for you. Make me earn your love. It’s worth whatever price. Whatever cost. Don’t let me come to expect easy with you. Make me want to work hard for you.
Eh, India,” I groaned. “If I wanted to go to hell, I’d just go up to the front door and ask Satan.
In the depths of hell roasting on a spit if it meant getting to be close to you.
He stepped back, rubbing his chin as his inspection continued. He was almost smirking, definitely smiling as he took in the sight of me sporting his jersey.
My heartbeat was so strong, I could feel it in my palms. “But I’m not your woman.” My head tipped back just enough I could make out his figure. “You’re the closest thing to it.
Hayden, as the first girl to take pity on my brother, let me offer my condolences. Suggestion? You might want to kick the tires and check the motor before you take him for a test drive. Number four. Just saying. All our parents’ good DNA went to us first. He got the leftover scraps.
Your parents? How long have they been married?” I asked, changing the subject since I could see how it upset him. “Thirty-five unmagical years.” Max’s voice was dripping sarcasm. “That shows commitment, right?” I argued, not sure why I was arguing this. I was as big a skeptic of marriage and commitment as he was. “No, it shows a high tolerance to pain. They both would be happier apart, but they’re too stubborn to admit it.
Jesus Christ, I’m glad the rumor on the street is that he went and died for humanity’s sins because I just committed about fifty-four in my head right now.
Push-ups in his underwear the next morning. Practically right outside of my divider, so I had to lunge over him to head to the bathroom. Later that night, I came home to find him shirtless in those low-slung sweats, going between studying and knocking out pull-ups on the bar he’d screwed into the wall.
I fell for you forever ago and there’s nothing you’ve done since that moment that has changed that. There’s nothing you could do to change that. When a person falls, they don’t just get up, dust themselves off, and keep going. If they fell right, if they fell good and hard the first time, there’s no getting up from that fall because they landed right where they were supposed to.
You’re still you, and he’s still him. People don’t change, Clara Belle. Not because they don’t want to, but because they can’t. Boone is who he is, and you are who you are. I would have warned you not to make the same mistake twice if I’d known you were even considering letting Boone Cavanaugh into your life again.
What the hell? Was I about to get off in a laundry room spying on the back of some cowboy I’d known for all of a day and a half? After.
Jesse. Smile. Dimples. Jeans. Hat. I.