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340 pages, Paperback
First published January 12, 2016
A deep chuckle moves through his chest, and the sound travels up my spine. "Excellent point, Canada. So we're a fucked-up guy and a disaster magnet girl ready to take on a country with more sheep than people." He nods decisively. "Yeah, we got this."
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This is how it's been lately. Like I'm a thirteen-year-old boy hitting puberty. I picture guys naked or in various states of undress—how they'd taste, how they'd fee, and how they'd touch me. (Apparently I'm a gay thirteen-year-old boy with the bow-chicka wow-wow porno instrumental as the soundtrack to my life.)
Wow. I just said that. I called Hot Guy Mister Man. I can't even get angry right.
Maybe it's not having been touched by a girl for more than a year now, but I want to own her. No. Not own her. I want to fuck her. I want it raw and fun with no strings attached. Travel sex, pure and simple. Once and done.
"So we're a fucked-up guy and a disaster-magnet girl ready to take on a country with more sheep than people."
"Yeah, we got this."
She weaves her fingers between mine and runs her thumb over my skin. It's such a simple gesture. Any other girl, on any other day, and I'd barely even notice. Maybe even be annoyed. But this girl, on this night, in this amazing country, and I'm falling to my knees.
Not knowing why, my hand floats from his chest up to his chin, to the scar embedded under his stubble. I trace the indentation, the way he often does, and our lips part at the same moment, his eyes burning into mine. Fierce. Beautiful. Perfect. Those are the words that describe this man. "God, I wish you were mine," I say. Like out loud? Those words were supposed to be on mute. Unspoken. A silent prayer.
That's when he growls.
"One, let's make that the official last time you ever talk to me about another guy being near you. Ever. Two, you could knee me in the balls, and I'd still want you. I'll never call you names. I'll always have your back. Three, there will be enough foreplay that when I do slide inside of you, slowly, you'll be begging for more. And four, my vote is you're still a virgin. That cherry is all mine."
I'm weird and quirky. A little bit crazy. More accident-prone than a blind three-legged dog. I'm Pininfarina Gabri, disaster-magnet, future chef, and lover of all things Sam. I am me—the good, the bad, and the ridiculous—and now Sam and I get to discover us.