King of Sloth

To every woman who’s ever been told to “smile more.” Fuck that. Do what you want.

Every version of my happily ever after will always include some version of you.

Luna is short for mi luna. My moon. Because no matter how dark the nights got, you were always there, shining so brightly that I always found my way through.

Whenever I was drowning, she was my anchor in the storm.

I’m naming it the Sloane. Bitter at first but with a sweet aftertaste. Just like someone I know.” “You don’t know how I taste.” His smile took on a decidedly more wicked slant. “Not yet.

Then I met you, and I finally understood what people meant when they said love is worth fighting for.

Don’t run away from what could be because you’re afraid of what might be.

Love isn’t about perfection, Luna; it’s about imperfect people creating their own version of happily ever after.

I loved her, totally and completely, and I’d be damned if I let anyone hurt her.

There’s potential in each and every one of us, and I hope you fulfill yours to the point of happiness.

In a world of black and white, she was my kaleidoscope.

She’d obviously dressed with the intention of blending in, but she could no more blend into a crowd than a jewel could blend into mud.

I looked at her and couldn’t breathe.

I knew she loved sushi because it was neat and easy to eat on the go. I knew she preferred double cheeseburgers when she was on her period and steak, medium rare, at client dinners unless her client was vegetarian, in which case she ordered soup and salad. She liked her wine white, her coffee black, and her gin with a splash of tonic. I knew all of these things because despite her assumption that I paid attention to no one except myself, I couldn’t stop noticing her if my life depended on it. Every detail, every moment, all filed and categorized in the Sloane cabinet of my mind.

She was so fucking beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. I wondered if she knew that.

The concept of happily ever after was the biggest scam since the advent of the overpriced college textbook industry.

Happy? Now you won’t be distracted by my incredible physique.” “No, I’ll just suffocate beneath the weight of your inflated ego.

It’s never too late for change. If you’re unhappy with the road you’re traveling, you can choose a new one at any time.

He terrified pretty much everyone around him, but when it came to his wife and daughter, he was a teddy bear.

You don’t know how I taste.” His smile took on a decidedly more wicked slant. “Not yet.

there was something about the way he held and looked at me…He posed the greatest danger to my perfectly constructed world, yet I’d never felt safer than when I was in his arms.

life ebbs and flows, and there’s always room for change. Humans have the capacity for growth until they leave this earth, so never feel like it’s too late for you to take another road if you’re unhappy with the one you’re traveling.

Love isn’t about perfection, Luna; it’s about imperfect people creating their own version of happily ever after. And while I don’t know everything, I do know this: Every version of my happily ever after will always include some version of you.

If I ruined my brand-new Stella Alonso dress over this, I’d kill him, bring him back to clean up the mess, then kill him again.

Good girl.” I gathered her hair in a fist and tugged her head back. The rise and fall of her chest quickened, and a small smile touched my lips. “I like it better wrapped around my fist.

The world is big enough for all of our dreams.

But there’s an old saying, Georgie: if he cheats with you, he can cheat on you.

Not God, Luna.'' I dipped my head, my mouth brushing hers with each word. She tasted sweet, warm, perfect. ''God has no hand in what I'm about to do to you.

If kisses had colors, this one would reflect the tatters of control swirling around us, a symphony of crimson and amber and pure, stunning cobalt. They sank beneath my skin, sending electric currents over every raw, exposed nerve.

I have a problem with some random guy groping you in public,” I snapped. “Why?” Because the thought of anyone else touching you fucking kills me.