Killer Skirt, Deadly Legs.

Patch Was Dressed In The Usual: Black Shirt, Black Jeans And A Thin Silver Necklace That Flashed Against His Dark Complexion. His Sleeves Were Pushed Up His Forearms, And I Could See His Muscles Working As He Punched Buttons. He Was Tall And Lean And Hard, And I Wouldn't Have Been Surprised If Under His Clothes He Bore Several Scars, Souvenirs From Street Fights And Other Reckless Behavior. Not That I Wanted A Look Under His Clothes.

I Turned My Face Up To His. I Could Hardly Look At Him The Same Way. I Was Crying Without Realizing I'd Started. "you Made A Deal With Hank. You Saved My Life. Why Would You Do That For Me?" "angel," He Murmured, Clasping My Face Between His Hands. "i Don't Think You Understand The Lengths I Would Go To If It Means Keeping You Here With Me.

The Archangel." I Murmured. Looking Back Over My Shoulder At The Ride, Which Had Started Its Next Ascent. "it Means High-ranking Angel." There Was A Definite Smugness To His Voice. "the Higher Up, The Harder The Fall.

I Don't Go Out With Strangers," I Said. "good Thing I Do. I'll Pick You Up At Five.

Patch Backed Me Into A Tree And Kissed Me, Hard. I Regained My Breath. "boys Take Not Everywhere: That Was A Kiss.