I think my heart might actually still be intact right now if he had tried to deny it. Hearing him openly admit what he really thinks of me makes it shatter into a million pieces.
Are you ready for it? Because your next laugh is on me. I sigh, long and loud. Rip off the proverbial bandage and wince. It’s short for Kipling.She’s holding back a smile, biting down on her bottom lip—so fucking cute—crossing her arms over her beer-soaked dress when my eyes roam down the front. Over her high, round breasts and slim waist.
Kipling. That’s a pretty fancy name, you know.I wasn’t sure that you did, Kipling.It’s also the name of a poet, Kipling, she informs me, as if I didn’t already fucking know. Rudyard Kipling—yikes, that’s a mouthful.
Can you not keep using it in sentences?Her brows go up, animated. But it’s so, so good.
If you were wearing a polo shirt and khakis right now, it would make so much more sense to me, and maybe I’d lay off, but you’re not—you were in construction boots tonight, and you’re wearing a torn up T-shirt. Her eyes roam across my chest. And brown cargo shorts.
When she averts her gaze, I’m surprisingly disappointed.The redhead’s attention shifted back to me and instead of fear I felt a flash of annoyance. Why did everyone assume I was the weak one? I looked at Jordan’s sword and listened to the two growling werewolves behind me. Okay, maybe this time they were right.
I think he likes you, Jordan said, laughter in her voice.The blond vampire yelled at his friend who was still making a God-awful racket as he tried to remove my arrow. Shut up, Trevor!
I can shut him up for you, Jordan said sweetly. Wouldn’t take more than a second.You can have her, snarled the redhead. I want the little one.