"A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies . . . The man who never reads lives only one." - George R.R. Martin
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Skin of the Night - "I'm sorry, have we met before?" I blurted out, bewildered in my tone.His eyebrows arched before a condescending chuckle slipped out of his mouth. A look of sardonic amusement etched through his riveting features. "Honestly, you're interrupting our conversation, and you couldn't be more original than that, Miss? At least you could have compensated with a better chat-up line. I'm disappointed. And like I said, we're not interested, so move along, would you?" Bewitched by the sound of his comfortable voice, it took me a few seconds to process the content. Once I did, I frowned offended.His friend groaned and shook his head beside me, clearly despaired by his companion. Could they be gay partners?"I beg your pardon? I was being serious, you utter twat," I snapped back at him.His eyebrows furrowed while his arresting eyes, twice, travelled up and down my body, and when they returned to mine, a crooked smile crept across his tempting mouth. From the way they had devoured my body, I eliminated the option of him being homosexual. Only a straight man could regard me with such a gleam in his eye."Perhaps we've slept together. But if we have, you surely weren't worth remembering," he finally answered. My lips parted with my eventual gasp. What a complete arsehole!
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