My gran had always told me that a woman--any woman worth her salt--could do whatever she had to.
In fact," Eric said, as he went to the front door, "I'd throw it away entirely. Maybe burn it." He left, closing the door behind him very quietly. I knew, as sure as I knew my name, that tomorrow he would send me another coat, in a big fancy box, wit...
He pulled my coat off my shoulders, looked at it with distaste, hung it on the back of one of the chairs pushed in under the kitchen table. "You are beautiful". No one had ever looked me in the eyes and said that. Eric to Sookie, Page 208.
It's probably a bad indicator of your lifestyle when you miss your ex-boyfriend because he's absolutely lethal.
It was beautiful Eric, who desired me, who was hungry for me, in a world that often let me know it could do very well without me.
I hate witches. Humans had the right idea, burning them at the stake.
As I climbed up into the high old bed, the large fly in my personal ointment did the same. Had I actually told him he could get in bed with me? Well, I decided, as I wriggled down under the soft old sheets and the blanket and the comforter, if Eric h...
Come on," I said, taking his hand. Clutching the afghan with the other hand, he trailed down the hall after me, a snow white giant in tiny red underwear.
Because he sounded so lost-the Eric I knew had never been one to do anything other than assume others should serve him-I patted around under the covers for his hand. When I found it, I slid my own over it. His palm was turned up to meet my palm, and ...
If there were an international butt competition, Eric would win, hands down—or cheeks up.
(Sookie's Thoughts on Debbie Pelt) she had been cruel to Alcide, insulted me grievously, burned a hole in my favorite wrap and—oh—tried to kill me by proxy. Also, she had stupid hair.
Vampires. They wrote the book on possessive.
A piece of happiness should never be taken as due.
I had never realized a woman could have to struggle to keep her hands off a man, but here I was, digging my nails into my palms, staring at the inside of my eyelids as though I could maybe see through them if I peered hard enough.
We could go back to your house. I can stay with you always. We can know each others bodies in every way, night after night. I could love you. I could work, you would not be poor. I would help you.
I wish," I said. "I could save orgasms in a jar for when I need them, because I think I have a few extra.
I had two cups of coffee, put Eric's jeans in the washer, read a romance for awhile, and studied my brand-new Word of the Day calendar, a Christmas gift from Arlene. My first word of the New Year was 'exsanguinate.' This was probably not a good omen.
