Becca Fitzpatrick

Keep in mind that people change, but the past doesn’t.”

"He's tall, dark, and annoying.

“I’m either in this with you, or I’m out,” I told him, and I meant every word. I’d lost Patch once before, and not to be melodramatic, but death was preferable. Patch was in my life for a reason. I needed him. We were two halves of the same whole.

“I want to be with you,” I said. “I need you close, Patch. I need all of you.”
I kissed him, frantic and bold, my mouth crushing forcefully to his. I pressed deeper, drowning in his taste. His hands tightened around my back, pulling me closer. I shaped my palms to his shoulders, to his arms, to his thighs, feeling his muscles work, so real and strong and alive. His mouth ground against mine, bright, needy pressure.
“I want to wake up with you every morning and fall asleep beside you each night,” Patch told me gravely. “I want to take care of you, cherish you, and love you in a way no other man ever could. I want to spoil you—every kiss,

every touch, every thought, they all belong to you. I’ll make you happy. Every day, I’ll make you happy.” The antique, almost primitive band he held between his fingers caught the sunlight, glinting silver. “I found this ring shortly after I was banished from heaven. I kept it to remind myself of how endless my sentence was, how eternal one small choice can be. I’ve kept it a long time. I want you to have it. You broke my suffering. You’ve given me a new eternity. Be my girl, Nora. Be my everything.”
I bit my lip, snagging a smile that threatened to split my face. I checked the ground to make sure I wasn’t floating. “Patch?”
He scraped the rough edge of the ring on his palm, raising a thin trail of blood. “I swear to you, Nora Grey, on this day, from now and forever, to give myself to you. I am yours. My love, my body, my soul—I place in your possession and protection.” He held out the ring, a single offering, a binding promise.
“Patch,” I whispered.
“If I fail my cove fail mynant, my own misery and regret will be my endless punishment.” His eyes pinned mine, a stripped sincerity clear in his gaze. But I won’t fail, Angel. I won’t fail you.

“I swear to you, Patch, to take your love and cherish it. And in return, to give you my body and my heart—everything I possess, I give to you. I am yours. Wholly and completely. Love me. Protect me. Fulfill me. And I promise to do the same.”

Inside our cozy, private room, I reached up and tugged on his silk necktie, undoing the knot. “You dress to impress,” I said approvingly.
“No, Angel.” He leaned in, his teeth softly grazing my ear. “I undress to impress.”