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Becca Fitzpatrick -
Hush, Hush (2009)
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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. This is uncharted territory for me, but I need to know that at the end of the night, I have you to come home to.
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If I could make this go away, I would. If I could stand in your place, I wouldn't hesitate. But I'm left with one choice, and that's to stand by your side through the end. I won't waver, Angel, I can promise you that. -Patch to Nora
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And you would have lost. We were surrounded. He threatened your life, and he would have made good on that threat. He had you, and that meant he had me, too.
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Mr. Green Sweater looks normal, but his wingman looks hard-core bad boy, said Vee. Emits a certain don't-mess-with-me signal. Tell me he doesn't look like Dracula's spawn. Tell me I'm imagining things.
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All this time I've hated myself for it. I thought I'd given it up for nothing. But if I hadn't fallen, I wouldn't have met you.
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Any happiness, no matter how brief, seemed better than the long, simmering torture of waking up day after day, knowing I could never have him.
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Hate to disappoint, but no feathers. I came to Earth stripped naked.
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I wrinkled my nose, trying to figure out what he smelled like. Not cigarettes. Something richer, fouler. Cigars.
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The problem with human attraction is not knowing if it will be returned.
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Let me show you, he said in my ear. Like this. Feel that? Relax. Now pivot your hips—it's all in the hips.
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See, when you lie to me it hurts," Rixon said, swiping an imaginary tear. "I thought we had something special. I thought our joint eternal sentences of damnation were our bond.
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Here it comes," she said with an expression of pure bliss. "Drug rush... any moment now... the surge of warmth... bye-bye, Mr. Pain..." "Vee-" "Knock, knock." "This is really important-" "Knock, knock." "It's about Elliot-" "Knock, knoooock," she said in a singsong voice. I sighed. "Who's there?" "Boo." "Boo who?" "Boo-hoo, somebody's crying, and it's not me!" She broke into hysterical laughter.
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I got a new job. Patch locked eyes with me, and I warmed in a lot of places. In fact, I was dangerously close to feverish.
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Patch smiled. You come by your red hair naturally? I stared at him. I don't have red hair. I hate to break it to you, but it's red. I could light it on fire and it wouldn't turn any redder.
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Something doesn't look right," Vee said. "Is the tire supposed to look like that?" I banged my head against the nearest tree trunk. "So we've got a flat," Vee said. "What now?
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Cheshvan starts tonight," Rixon said, "What are you doing arsing around in a graveyard?" "Thinking." "Thinking?" "A process by which I use my brain to make a rational decision.
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Everything had come into sharp focus : his smooth words, his black, glinting eyes, his broad experience with lies, seduction, women. I'd fallen in love with the devil.
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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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First, he said, coming behind me and placing his hands on the counter, just outside of mine, choose your tomato. He dipped his head so his mouth was at my ear. His breath was warm, tickling my skin. Good. Now pick up the knife. Does the chef always stand this close? I asked, not sure if I liked or feared the flutter his closeness caused inside me. When he's revealing culinary secrets, yes.
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Cooking isn't taught, Patch said. It's inherent. Either you've got it or you don't. Like chemistry. You think you're ready for chemistry? I pressed the knife down through the tomato; it split in two, each half rocking gently on the cutting board. You tell me. Am I ready for chemistry? Patch made a deep sound I couldn't decipher and grinned.
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When it comes to reflexes, I'm like a cat. I'm Catwoman. I'm invulnerable. The only reason he got a piece of me is because of the rain. Cats don't like water. It impairs us. It's our kryptonite.
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Patch wasn't the kind of guy mothers smiled on. He was the kind of guy they changed the house locks for.
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Vee said," I'm trying to read the title he's holding…hang on…How to Be a Stalker." "He is not checking out a book with that title." But I wasn't so sure. "It's either that of How to Radiate Sexy Without Trying.
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She'll kill me if she finds you in here. Can you climb trees? Tell me you can climb a tree!" Patch grinned, "I can fly.
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Listen, Patch, I don't want to be rude, but— Sure you do. Well, you started it! Lovely. Very mature.
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Say 'provoking' again. Your mouth looks provocative when you do.
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You didn't tell me she was so soft on the eyes, he said to Patch, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He spoke with a heavy Irish accent. I didn't tell her how hard you are on them either, Patch returned, his mouth at the relaxed stage just before a grin.
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I love you. His voice was straightforward, affectionate. You make me remember who I used to be. You make me want to be that man again. Right now, holding you, I feel like we have a shot at beating all odds and making it together. I'm yours, if you'll have me.
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All I can think about is bed. We're sharing the same thought. You're thinking about bed too? I'm thinking about YOU in MY bed.
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Hank had left me his doomed army, and he'd left Marcie his inheritance. Unfair didn't begin to cover it.
Becca Fitzpatrick
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Quote of the day
I must have a prodigious quantity of mind; it takes me as much as a week sometimes to make it up.
Mark Twain
Becca Fitzpatrick
Creative Commons
Born:
February 3, 1979
(age 45)
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