I didn’t know what to call it, what was happening between us, but I liked it. It felt silly and fragile and good.
You had this all planned, didn’t you?? I accused. ‘Thought you could come in here and seduce me like you do everyone else?’ It wasn’t as if I could be angry, lying atop him as I was, but I tried.
There isn’t a doubt in my mind that we could be perfect for each others life, Sydney. It’s our lives that aren’t perfect for us.
Because we all need to believe in movies, sometimes.
Love expands your soul with something inexplicably fulfilling. If you die without ever having experienced it, you will miss life’s only true joy.
A bond between souls is ancient – older than the planet.
Scholars, theologians, and even poets have yet to be able to truly describe and touch upon the beauty, romance, and magic of a relationship built on 100% authenticity.
Long dormant feelings poured through my dried-up limbs and wound through me, slowly filling the emptiness. Like an irrigated field, I felt myself blossom and grow with new vigor. He was the sun, and the tenderness he showed me was life-giving water.
Blake took her face in his hands. “You let me touch you. Kiss you. Your skin? It feels like piano keys. My hands know just where to go.
Sometimes limbs must be re-broken to set properly, her heart too needed to shatter anew before it could truly heal.
Come to think of it, she did not speak a word. Yet I could have sworn she had the most beautiful voice.
More than anything.” Rob persisted. “You’d crawl on your belly over broken glass for her. Easy.
If you were mine, I’d never leave you, Prudence. I couldn’t.
Now,” said Brandons low, cold voice. “Lets not be rude eve.
WORTH IT and perfect are different things. No one’s perfect, yet in romance, everyone becomes WORTH IT. And that’s the trick.
At some point, our lips met and it was perhaps the most wonderful thing I’d ever experienced. And truly, I guess there wasn’t just one kiss, but several. A polite frenzy. A mass migration of delicate wildebeest kisses. I remember them as one transcendent event, though.
Some minutes or hours or days later, when I lay boneless and well satisfied, Ethan raised his gaze to mine again. His eyes were silver, his fangs descended. “There is no going back,” he said, “Not after this.
Here’s what I know: death abducts the dying, but grief steals from those left behind.
She shook off the self-recrimination. What-ifs and could-have-beens were not the way to move forward. She knew that from experience.
He felt like home.