“Jesus, you think you’re fuckin’ Catwoman”, he muttered. “I do not. Catwoman wore a leotard and stupid ears and fake claws. That’s just silly.”

“Jesus Christ," he muttered to the ceiling. "All those times I sat in the office and laughed my ass off at stories of Lee, Eddie, Hank and Vance. They should have fuckin' medals.”

“I think we should break up,” I told him.“Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass,” he muttered and went back to his book.“Seriously, Vance.”“Shut up, Jules,” he said without taking his eyes from his book.”

“Women don’t buy with me,” he said quietly. “I get it, women’s lib and all, got no problem with that. But you’re with me, I pay. No discussion, definitely no stupid-ass fight. That’s just the way it is with me.”

“Righty ho, biker boss,” I muttered quickly and Shy’s eyes narrowed.“Don’t be fuckin’ cute and, honest to God, if you lick your lip, I’ll lose my mind. Next time you lick your lip you do it when we are nowhere near a public place and I can let loose the reaction I’ve had half a million fuckin’ times over four fuckin’ years every time I’ve seen you do it.”

“Then he muttered like he was talking to himself, "I don't know if I want her to figure out she's fuckin' gorgeous so she isn't so fuckin' clueless when a player marks her or if I'm glad I finally got one who looks as good as her and has no fuckin' clue.""Are you wanting me to participate in this discussion or are you having a conversation with yourself?""You're participation isn't required," Sam replied... and I looked up to see him grinning.”

“You’re livin’ in Badass World, baby,” he whispered in my ear. “Fair warning, until I fix what I cut in you, you’re there to stay.”