I must say I liked Jamie's version of the game chicken way better than the original especially if you just hide in a closet and see how far a man will strip, Quinn obviously goes all the way, "...his jeans came sailing out, landing with a dull thump right in front of me. And then his blue boxer briefs. But I had no time to freak out, because the door opened wide and Quinn appeared, holding his hands over his crotch like a effing fig leaf. I gasped. “So,” he said, those blue eyes dancing. “Now what?” I'm telling you, Jamie has an obsession with her man's ***, "my face was buried under his chest, my hands stuck to his ***. I peeled them off. “I think my handprints might be permanently seared on your butt.” I loved this book, I loved Quinn.
No comments:
Post a Comment