I feel myself implode, and all I can think about is how much I miss him. I miss curling into his arms and telling him about my day. I miss knowing he’ll always be mine—that no one will ever know me like he does. I miss his lips and his hands. I m...
I really miss us, Trent.” I swallow. “I miss how I could tell you everything and how I knew you’d never judge me. I miss how safe I used to feel when you held me. I miss that you knew me better than I knew myself. I miss my best friend so much,...
You never seem to run out of ways to blow my mind, Lexie. You’re my best friend, and you’re the one woman I can imagine spending the rest of my life with. Do you know how lucky that makes me?
Passion can sometimes bring out qualities in a person that they never knew they possessed.
I love getting lost on purpose
Gabriel. This has to be his fault, somehow. I'm going to track him down, pluck out his angel feathers, and stuff a pillow with them.
Sii la mia schiava d’amore,” I purr. Her expression is guarded. “What did you say?” An amused smile pulls at my lips. “I’ll never tell.” Somehow, I don’t think she’d agree to be my love slave anyway.”—Luc Cain (p. 148)
But his eyes say what he can’t. I see it, clear as day, even if she doesn’t. He’d give up his wings for her. All she’d have to do is ask.
I’m fairly certain I’m having my first truly religious experience, and it’s probably a very bad thing that it’s happening in a church, but it’s over a sculpture. Mental note: Add idol worship to your list for confession.
