“He was a jerk. A jerk with a nice butt and a rip in his jeans that strategically showed an inch of muscular thigh.” — Megan Erickson Copy Share Image
“I tried to jerk my hand down to touch my dick only to remember they were bound. “Oh God, I fucking hate you,” I hissed. “You smug bitch.” A” — Megan Erickson Copy Share Image
“I speed sometimes,” I muttered to myself as I rounded the car. “I even speed through yellows.” — Megan Erickson Copy Share Image
“I think you’re the first guy I’ve met in person who I couldn’t stop staring at.” Was” — Megan Erickson Copy Share Image
“Hey, you didn’t let me finish.” “Finish what?” “Finish telling you that I love you too.” I” — Megan Erickson Copy Share Image
“In my script-like scrawl, I wrote: If you find my body, ask Hazzard. I leaned back and surveyed my words. Then I drew a… — Megan Erickson Copy Share Image
“Good morning.” I didn’t release my grip on his hair. “You snore by the way.” Zane’s eyes narrowed. “I do not.” “Do too.” “If… — Megan Erickson Copy Share Image
“I’m cool with going back to hate,” I said, then paused. “Did we ever leave hate?” Zane swallowed and looked away. “Not even for… — Megan Erickson Copy Share Image
“He opened his mouth as my eyes dropped to his badge. And right there, in big, bold, black letters, it said Cerise/Cherrycakes. Ian was… — Megan Erickson Copy Share Image
