Ahh, the feels…

Here’s mine:

“I beg to differ.”

She beamed me a breathtaking smile, equal parts adorably cute and wickedly evil. Lethal combination. “I love it when you beg.”

I had every intention of engaging in our usual quick draw banter. However, it simply wasn’t going to happen. Not anytime soon anyway. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. Twice. It wouldn’t budge. Shit, I couldn’t even see straight anymore.

“Don’t you dare get emotional, jerk. You’ll make me cry.”

“Don’t you dare cry, woman,” I growled back. “You’ll make me lose my mind.”

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Can you feel the love?

Here’s mine:

This feeling…

I’d never stop craving it.

The painful tightness in my chest. The unbearable heat coursing through my veins. The full-body tremble I couldn’t control. The hitch in my throat that made breathing a struggle. The intoxicating, addictive high from a sudden lack of air.

These moments…

I’d never get enough of them.

Moments like this were surreal. Abracadabra. Hocus pocus type stuff.

Moments like this were pure freakin’ magic.

Moments like this…

“Never gets old, does it?” his soft question broke the silence.

It broke me too.

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Just observing

Here’s mine:

“Is that all she ordered?” I ask quietly.

“Yeah,” Gus answers. “I offered to make her something on the house.”

“And?”

“Said she wasn’t hungry.”

I glance over to see her lick the spoon. Then turn it over and lick it again before tipping the empty bowl slightly with her thumb. She’s a liar. The damn girl’s starving. “You actually believe her?”

“Not for a second.”

Taking another bite, I try to sound casual, “Did she say where she’s from?”

“Nah.”

I shrug.

“Do you care?”

Another shrug. “Just curious,” I say.

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Three’s a crowd

Here’s mine:

“I took a big step back and stiffened my spine. There wasn’t room to take a second. I was up against the wall. Literally.

“So we’ll be seeing more of one another from now on,” he continued, planting his palms flat on either side of my head. His gaze drifted lower, fixing onto my lips. “A lot more…”

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned, pushing hard on his chest.

He didn’t budge. Instead, he dipped closer. So close his breath warmed my cheeks. “And what if I’m already thinking about it?” The question was thick, rough with desire. “What if I’ve been thinking about it for a long time?”

“Then you need to stop.”

“I’d rather not.”

With a frustrated grunt, I ducked out from under his arms. “What is your problem?”

“You, you’re my fucking problem,” he growled in reply, grabbing my wrist, “and I’m going to fix it one way or another.”

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At first sight

Here’s mine:

“It’s not your color.”

I glanced over and then up.

Way up.

Because the smooth, velvety voice belonged to a giant. Even contained in a full pinstripe suit oozing with power and money, I could tell he was built like a brick shithouse.

When I didn’t reply, he clarified solemnly, “Black isn’t your color.”

He wasn’t looking at me, which was fortunate since I’d started to salivate. I could see the tip of a tattoo peeking out from under his collar.

Inked muscle?

Just call me Pavlov’s dog.

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Awkward much?

Here’s mine:

“You only have one choice in a situation like this.”

How ominous. “There’s a situation?”

“A very dire situation,” she gave a solemn nod, “which I vote you lovebirds remedy sooner rather than later.”

“Huh?”

“By making lots of babies.”

I didn’t get the chance to react or respond or even breathe as a scrumptious, fully dressed Cale rolled up beside me and said, cool as a cucumber, “I’m not against that idea.”

Oh. My. God.

They attacked immediately. From all angles and every direction. A relentless swarm of butterflies. An elite army of the vicious little buggers. With machine guns and bazookas and…

“Pancakes or waffles?”

“W-what?” I croaked.

Hey, it’s not easy to speak when you throw up your heart and it gets lodged in your windpipe.

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Talk dirty to me

Here’s mine:

“Sadist.”

I rubbed a soothing circle over the small red spot that was starting to appear. “Don’t make me slap you with my wooden ruler.”

“Are you a naughty professor now?”

“Nope. A crotchety schoolmarm.”

“You took off your top and promised to slap me,” he reminded in monotone.

“Threatened. And what’s your point?”

“Definitely a naughty professor.” His mouth twitched in the tiniest hint of a smirk. “Plus, you mentioned something about wood and crotch. I can’t recall exactly what but I’m sure it was important.”

I laughed. How could I not? “You’re such a dork.”

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