One doesn’t fall in love… one digs a hole for himself to trip in… claiming he didn’t see it coming
Romance is everything to turn it into a cause for given is priceless
Sheer male interest filled his gaze which was entirely focused on her. She’d never before felt so female, so utterly desirable, so wanton.
Surely–But I am very off from that.
From surely. From indeed. From the decent arrow
that was my clean naivete and my faith.
This morning, men deliver wounds and death.
They will deliver death and wounds tomorrow.
And I doubt all. You. Or a violet.
Sometime later, I stood watching the cold rain fall, when suddenly I felt Daemon’s arms around me and his lips on my neck. He loved my pregnant body and his hands roamed over it under the warm terrycloth of my bathrobe. I was lost in the moment, content to stay here forever…lost in the cold rain and welcoming warmth of Dublin, and lost in the arms of my husband. Since we arrived early this morning we were in our room, making love and sleeping, lost in a fairy tale moment, savoring every caress.
The moment sex ceases to be a servant it becomes a tyrant.
Just because you took longer than others, doesn’t mean you failed.
Simple and predictable seem pretty darn tantalizing when you’re a witch.
Lately, I’ve wished for a lot of things to be the way they were. Gone are my lust
for the macabre and the sweetly sinful fantasies of meeting a vampire. Something
about unconscious people slumped against the dark leather of the booths at
crimson made it less sexy.
When they see us dance. When they see how you look at me. When they see how I smile at you.
In true Bastien form-and keeping in mind that he’s only seven at the time-he yanks off his helmet, throws his backpack down, and lies on the ground, using the helmet for a pillow, and says to them, and I quote verbatim, ‘Later, bitches. I’m done for the day. Y’all can carry me home or call for a lift. Either way, I ain’t moving from here. My ass is too precious for this abuse.