“Nev was the man in the parlor and the painter in his studio, the banker and the rugby player. The boyfriend who bought her prawn crisps and rubbed her back when she cried. The tender lover. The caged beast who… — 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 Image
“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 Image
“Was that some kind of romantic declaration, disguised as a filthy pirate sex offer?” — Ruthie Knox Copy Share Image
“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 Image
“The smile widened, and she decided it ought to be classified as a misdemeanor. Grinning with Intent to Discombobulate.” — Ruthie Knox Copy Share Image
“Sometimes I can’t think of anything but every wrong thing I’ve ever done.” — Ruthie Knox Copy Share Image
“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 Image
“I promise you, whatever we are together, it's not a mistake. It's too good to be a mistake.” — Ruthie Knox Copy Share Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
“I’ve reformed. The kissing is sort of a holdover.” “Don’t reform. I like you bad.” — Ruthie Knox Copy Share Image
