“Then why are you getting dressed?” “Maybe I don’t like being the only naked one in the room,” I said sarcastically. And immediately regretted it. “That is easily remedied,” he told me, and pulled off his sweater.”

“Hey, give me my gun, would you?” Zane asked as he shifted, only to wince as the skin pulled. “Why, you planning on shooting me in the ass when I turn around?” Ty asked sarcastically as he reached for the holster. “Tempting, but you’d probably get off on it,” Zane said, holding out his hand.”

“I don’t know, man.” He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.“Ew!” I recoiled. “You smoke?”“Only when I drink,” he said, reaching for a lighter, “or when I’m seriously depressed.”I snatched the pack away. “These will kill you, and you don’t want that.”“Yeah?” he said sarcastically. “How should I get myself killed then?”“You could hang out with me some more,” I suggested. “I attract homicidal maniacs like mosquitoes, baby.”

“You like me,” he finally said. “You like me, like me.” He was trying not to smile.“No. I hate you,” I said, hoping that saying it would make it so.“And yet, you draw me.” Noah was still smug, completely undeterred by my declaration.This was torture; worse somehow than what just happened, even though it was only the two of us. Or because it was only the two of us.“Why?” he asked.“Why what?” What could I say? Noah, despite you being an asshole, or maybe because of it, I’d like to rip off your clothes and have your babies. Don’t tell.”

“He stops kissing, but his lips stay touching mine, lightly, like a feather would. "I'm bad for you, Sarah. I won't ever be the gentleman you need.""Maybe I don’t want gentle."He pulls something from his dress pants and presses it into my hand. "And that is my fault.”

“Listen,” he said, raising himself up on one elbow. “You don’t just decide one day you’re going to run a marathon, right? You have to do some training first.”“Aren’t you being glib about this?”His hands slid around her, inside her sweater, touching her naked back.Everything in her wanted to melt. Oh, just let it go, she told herself. “Am I the marathon?”He smiled and nodded. “The New York Marathon.”“The Boston is harder," she muttered.“Okay, you’re the Boston, then.”“And what was she? Just a little warm-up?”“She was like a 5K,” he said, so near her ear that she got goose bumps. “Well…maybe a 10K.”