141
" Laughing, I stood up and got her a Coke from the fridge.
When I handed it to her, Raven stared at my flat belly then leaned her face against it. “You’re so lucky,” she whispered. “Your mommy will make you laugh and kiss away the tears. She’ll read you books about self esteem then sing you awful songs until you sleep out of boredom. You’re going to grow up so loved and you won’t know any other way.”
When Raven looked up at me, she smiled at my tears. “I wish I had a mom like you, Lark. Everyone does. You’re going to love the shit out of this kid and you’ll make it look easy. No worries, okay?”
“Okay,” I whispered, caressing her face. “I’m so glad you came home.”
“Me too.”
The sound of dogs’ claws on the wood floors ended the quiet moment.
“Thank goodness we have company,” Raven said. “I was gonna start bawling.”
Startled by a new person in the house, Pollack descended into a barking fit while Professor played tough guy by growling. Raven barked back at Pollack who decided she couldn’t argue with crazy and ran away.
Already laughing before he turned the corner, Aaron took a minute to realize who was sitting with me.
“Raven came home,” I told him and he smiled wider. “She speaks dog too.”
“Pollack has never met a challenge she couldn’t run from,” he said then glanced down at a growling Professor. “Hush.” The dog grudgingly quieted, but kept an eye on Raven who stood up and shook Aaron’s hand.
“You planning to make an honest woman out of my sister?” she asked in a voice more suiting of a protective dad.
“Yes, sir. "
― Bijou Hunter , Damaged and the Cobra (Damaged, #3)
151
" My mouth hung slightly open, i was getting ready to sat something important. what i wanted to say was: I's so, so sorry. but instead I said, " i love you." Only then, when i said it out loud, did i know that it was true.Carly threaded her fingers through mine and i squeezed her hand. She said it back to me, and i was relieved in a way that i wasn't expecting. i didn't know that i needed her to say it until she did. i was so grateful; i leaned down and kissed her fearlessly, which was unlike me. When she kissed me back, i brought my hand up and cupped the nape of her neck, pulling her hair with clumsy fingers. i tried to back off, to apologize for hurting her, but she kept me close, kissing me softly at first, then hard and fast until the lines between us blurred. "
152
" He became so gloomy that she asked him, at last, if he was worried about anything. He assured her, instantly, that he was the happiest man in the world.
And he was. At times he was almost bewildered by his own bliss in being there, with Tony, so terribly dear, beside him; really his own for the rest of his life. It was not her fault if the insatiable sorrows of an unequal love tormented him, the hungry demand for more, for a fuller return, for a feeling which it was not in her nature to give. As she leaned forward, absorbed in the passions staged beneath her, he felt suddenly that their box contained just himself and a wraith, a ghost; as if the real Antonia, whom he loved, was an imagined woman living only in his sad fancy. "
― Margaret Kennedy , The Constant Nymph
153
" I couldn’t talk about it, about them—not yet. So I breathed “Later” and hooked my feet around his legs, drawing him closer. I placed my hands on his chest, feeling the heart beating beneath. This—I needed this right now. It wouldn’t wash away what I’d done, but … I needed him near, needed to smell and taste him, remind myself that he was real—this was real.
“Later,” he echoed, and leaned down to kiss me.
It was soft, tentative—nothing like the wild, hard kisses we’d shared in the hall of throne room. He brushed his lips against mine again. I didn’t want apologies, didn’t want sympathy or coddling. I gripped the front of his tunic, tugging him closer as I opened my mouth to him.
He let out a low growl, and the sound of it sent a wildfire blazing through me, pooling and burning in my core. I let it burn through that hole in my chest, my soul. Let it raze through the wave of black that was starting to press around me, let it consume the phantom blood I could still feel on my hands. I gave myself to that fire, to him, as his hands roved across me, unbuttoning as he went.
I pulled back, breaking the kiss to look into his face. His eyes were bright—hungry—but his hands had stopped their exploring and rested firmly on my hips. With a predator’s stillness, he waited and watched as I traced the contours of his face, as I kissed every place I touched.
His ragged breathing was the only sound—and his hands soon began roaming across my back and sides, caressing and teasing and baring me to him. When my traveling fingers reached his mouth, he bit down on one, sucking it into his mouth. It didn’t hurt, but the bite was hard enough for me to meet his eyes again. To realize that he was done waiting—and so was I.
He eased me onto the bed, murmuring my name against my neck, the shell of my ear, the tips of my fingers. I urged him—faster, harder. His mouth explored the curve of my breast, the inside of my thigh.
A kiss for each day we’d spent apart, a kiss for every wound and terror, a kiss for the ink etched into my flesh, and for all the days we would be together after this. Days, perhaps, that I no longer deserved. But I gave myself again to that fire, threw myself into it, into him, and let myself burn. "
― Sarah J. Maas , A Court of Thorns and Roses (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #1)
154
" I leaned against my door, struggling to catch my breath, and thought that maybe hell wasn't a place at all, but a thing. A contagious thing. A thing that could creep up the steps, seep through the crack under my door, grow horns and sprout fire - smelling faintly like sulfur. A thing that could sink its tendrils inside and take root, coloring everything gray and distorting a smile into a sneer. And while i got dressed for the play, swatted at my back and kept running my hands over my stomach because I could feel it, I swear, I could feel it reaching for me, trying to grab hold. "
― Megan Miranda , Fracture (Fracture, #1)
155
" He seemed to be lying on the bed. He could not see very well. Her youthful, rapacious face, with blackened eyebrows, leaned over him as he sprawled there.
“‘How about my present?’ she demanded, half wheedling, half menacing.
“Never mind that now. To work! Come here. Not a bad mouth. Come here. Come closer. Ah!
“No. No use. Impossible. The will but not the way. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Try again. No. The booze, it must be. See Macbeth. One last try. No, no use. Not this evening, I’m afraid.
“All right, Dora, don’t you worry. You’ll get your two quid all right. We aren’t paying by results.
“He made a clumsy gesture. ‘Here, give us that bottle. That bottle off the dressing-table.’
“Dora brought it. Ah, that’s better. That at least doesn’t fail. "
― George Orwell , Keep the Aspidistra Flying
157
" Before he could say my name, I closed the space between us. Quickly, my lips moved against his. The mental and emotional emptiness took over instantly, but physically, I was more alert than ever. Wesley’s surprise didn’t last as long as it had before, and his hands were on me in seconds. My fingers tangled in his soft hair, and Wesley’s tongue darted into my mouth and became a new weapon in our war.
Once again, my body took complete control of everything. Nothing existed at the corners of my mind; no irritating thoughts harassed me. Even the sounds of Wesley’s stereo, which had been playing some piano rock I didn’t recognize, faded away as my sense of touch heightened.
I was fully conscious of Wesley’s hand as it slid up my torso and moved to cup my breast. With an effort, I pushed him away from me. His eyes were wide as he leaned back. “Please don’t slap me again,” he said.
“Shut up.”
I could have stopped there. I could have stood up and left the room. I could have let that kiss be the end of it. But I didn’t. The mind-numbing sensation I got from kissing him was so euphoric-such a high-that I couldn’t stand to give it up that fast. I might have hated Wesley Rush, but he held the key to my escape, and at that moment I wanted him… I needed him.
Without speaking, without hesitating, I pulled my T-shirt over my head and threw it onto Wesley’s bedroom floor. He didn’t have a chance to say anything before I put my hands on his shoulders and shoved him onto his back. A second later, I was straddling him and we were kissing again. His fingers undid the clasp on my bra, and it joined my shirt on the floor.
I didn’t care. I didn’t feel self-conscious or shy. I mean, he already knew I was the Duff, and it wasn’t like I had to impress him.
I unbuttoned his shirt as he pulled the alligator clip from my hair and let the auburn waves fall around us. Casey had been right. Wesley had a great body. The skin pulled tight over his sculpted chest, and my hands drifted down his muscular arms with amazement.
His lips moved to my neck, giving me a moment to breathe. I could only smell his cologne this close to him. As his mouth traveled down my shoulder, a thought pushed through the exhilaration. I wondered why he hadn’t shoved me-Duffy-away in disgust.
Then again, I realized, Wesley wasn’t known for rejecting girls. And I was the one who should have been disgusted.
But his mouth pressed into mine again, and that tiny, fleeting thought died. Acting on instinct, I pulled on Wesley’s lower lip with my teeth, and he moaned quietly. His hands moved over my ribs, sending chills up my spine. Bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss.
Only once, as Wesley flipped me onto my back, did I seriously consider stopping. He looked down at me, and his skilled hand grasped the zipper on my jeans. My dormant brain stirred, and I asked myself if things had gone too far. I thought about pushing him away, ending it right where we were. But why would I stop now? What did I stand to lose? Yet what could I possibly gain? How would I feel about this in an hour… or sooner?
Before I could come up with any answers, Wesley had my jeans and underwear off. He pulled a condom from his pocket (okay, now that I’m thinking about it, who keeps condoms in their pockets? Wallet, yes, but pocket? Pretty presumptuous, don’t you think?), and then his pants were on the floor, too. All of a sudden, we were having sex, and my thoughts were muted again. "
― Kody Keplinger , The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend (Hamilton High, #1)
158
" You have a freckle,” he murmured. “Right” – he leaned down and dropped a light kiss near the inside of her elbow – “here.”
“You’ve seen it before,” she said softly. It wasn’t in an immodest spot; she had plenty of frocks with short sleeves.
He chuckled. “But I’ve never given it it’s proper due.”
“Really.”
“Mmm-hmm.” He lifted her arm, twisting it just a bit so that he could pretend to be studying her freckle.
“It is clearly the most delightful beauty mark in all of England.”
A marvelous sense of warmth and contentment melted through her. Even as her body burned for his, she could not stop herself from encouraging his teasing conversation.
“Only England?”
“Well, I haven’t traveled very extensively abroad…”
“Oh, really?” “And you know…” His voice dropped to a husky growl.
“There may be other freckles right here in this room. You could have one here.” He dipped a finger under the bodice of her nightgown, then moved his other hand to her hip.
“Or here.”
“I might,” she agreed.
“The back of your knee,” he said, the words hot against her ear
. “You could have one there.”
She nodded. She wasn’t sure she was still capable of speech.
“One of your toes,” he suggested.
“Or your back.”
“You should probably check,” she managed to get out.
He took a deep, shuddering breath. "
― Julia Quinn , Because of Miss Bridgerton (Rokesbys, #1)
