“What's your name?" she asked. He laughed. "Nev." She sat up suddenly, bracing her elbows on the bed. "Short for Neville?" It was the world's dorkiest name. Nearly as bad as Rupert. "I never thought I'd be penetrated by a… — Ruthie Knox Copy Share Image
“Nice?” he said fiercely. “Nice is a lemonade stand.” He withdrew and thrust deep. “Nice is a picnic on the lawn. This is not—… — Ruthie Knox Copy Share
“After I left here on Saturday, I decided never to see you again.” He was sliding the frittata under the broiler, so she could… — Ruthie Knox Copy Share
“Was that some kind of romantic declaration, disguised as a filthy pirate sex offer?” — Ruthie Knox Copy Share
“Have you ever been with a man who d-did those things to you?” His voice had turned husky and dark. “Talked dirty to you?… — Ruthie Knox Copy Share
“The smile widened, and she decided it ought to be classified as a misdemeanor. Grinning with Intent to Discombobulate.” — Ruthie Knox Copy Share
“I thought you didn’t sit,” she said. The dimple appeared. “The way I’ve worked it out, this is the closest thing to a first… — Ruthie Knox Copy Share
“I promise you, whatever we are together, it's not a mistake. It's too good to be a mistake.” — Ruthie Knox Copy Share
“Nev was the man in the parlor and the painter in his studio, the banker and the rugby player. The boyfriend who bought her… — Ruthie Knox Copy Share
“Just dinner,” Ben said. “And not some kind of perverted thing where I clock you on the head when your back is turned and… — Ruthie Knox Copy Share
“I’ve reformed. The kissing is sort of a holdover.” “Don’t reform. I like you bad.” — Ruthie Knox Copy Share
“He picked her up. Picked her up and carried her, as if she were Scarlett O’Hara and he were Rhett Butler, if Rhett had… — Ruthie Knox Copy Share
“And those noises—” He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and she gasped. “K-keep doing that, sweetheart, and I’m going to make… — Ruthie Knox Copy Share
“Oh my God, walk.” Beatrice stood in the middle of the street, waving them forward with both hands. A car bore down from half… — Ruthie Knox Copy Share
