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“I grab his hand as he moves to stand. 'Stay.' 'I shouldn't.' Two lines appear between his brows as he searches my eyes. 'People will talk.' 'When did I ever give you the impression that I give a fuck what people think?' I use his earlier words against him and sit up, curling my hand around the section of his neck that bears the relic. 'Stay with me, Xaden. don't make me beg.' 'We both know this is a bad idea.' 'Then it's out bad idea.' His shoulders dip, and I know I've won. He's mine for the night.” — Rebecca Yarros
I grab his hand as he moves to stand. 'Stay.'
'I shouldn't.' Two lines appear between his brows as he searches my eyes. 'People will talk.'
'When did I ever give you the impression that I give a fuck what people think?' I use his earlier words against him and sit up, curling my hand around the section of his neck that bears the relic. 'Stay with me, Xaden. don't make me beg.'
'We both know this is a bad idea.'
'Then it's out bad idea.'
His shoulders dip, and I know I've won. He's mine for the night.