FastSaying

Patch was dressed in the usual: black shirt, black jeans and a thin silver necklace that flashed against his dark complexion. His sleeves were pushed up his forearms, and I could see his muscles working as he punched buttons. He was tall and lean and hard, and I wouldn't have been surprised if under his clothes he bore several scars, souvenirs from street fights and other reckless behavior.

Not that I wanted a look under his clothes.

Becca Fitzpatrick

Becca Fitzpatrick

hush-hushpatch

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You should go," I breathed. "You should definitely go."

"Go here?" His mouth was on my shoulder. "Or here?" It moved up my neck.
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Let’s get out of here.”

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“You’ll see.
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You're a liar!"

He turned around, his black eyes snapping. "I'm also a thief, a gambler, a cheat, and a murdered. But this happens to be one of the rare times when I'm telling the truth. Go home. Consider yourself lucky. You've got a chance to start fresh. Not everyone can say the same.
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You're staying here, Angel."

"You're taking this one alone?"

"First, Hank can't see us together. Second, I don't like the idea of dragging you into something that could get messy fast. If you need one more reason, I love you.
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