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“He glared accusingly at her while he made short work of his clothes. "You didn't wake me up."
She rolled her eyes as she speared a piece of sausage with her fork. "I did wake you up. Three times in fact. Each time you threw something at me and went back to sleep."
Jason gaped at her. "And you gave up? You know our routine, woman. You have to
keep at it until I'm forced to get off the bed to find something to throw at you.”
― R.L. Mathewson, Playing for Keeps

“Hey! I thought you said you were gay!â€� the man said accusingly.
Without missing a beat Jason said, “She is. I’m just her bitch.”
― R.L. Mathewson, Playing for Keeps

“I’m hungry,â€� Jason grumbled as he stared at the empty plates on his small
coffee table.
Brad groaned, “You practically ate both plates of cookies. How in the hell are
you hungry?�
Jason shrugged leaning back in his chair to watch the game. “I just am.
Leave me the hell alone I’m a growing boy, damn it!�
“Yeah, a growing thirty-one year old boy,� Brad mumbled.
“I’m still growing damn it so shut the hell up and feed me!�
“Order something and stop bitching!� Brad snapped.
“You order something. I’m too weak to move.”
― R.L. Mathewson, Playing for Keeps

“What if I promise to make you a batch of brownies tomorrow?" she asked, deciding
to use his love of baked goods against him.
He snorted in disbelief as he got to his feet. "I'm not some whore you can buy with a
pan of yummy baked goods, woman. How dare you insult me?" he said on a sniff as
he folded his arms over his chest and did his best to look put out.
"Fine," Haley said with a sigh. "What if I promise to make a big bowl of frosting tomorrow and let you lick it off me?"
She had to bite back a smile as Jason shifted anxiously while he licked his lips and ran his eyes hungrily down her body. "Buttercream?" he croaked out.
"Mmmmhmm," she said, walking over to him. She cupped the back of his head and
gently tugged him down for a quick kiss. "And if you're good I might lick some off you," she said, loving the idea.
"Get your own bowl of frosting. I don't share," he simply said, giving her one last kiss before walking out the door, whistling happily, no doubt thinking about the large bowl of frosting he was going to devour tomorrow.”
― R.L. Mathewson, Playing for Keeps