This time, I invited it in. I felt the darkness tame my impetuous nature, allowing me to feed slowly on the hatred and control it. The coldness flowed through my veins and to the lengths of each limb. The icy darkness pooled in my chest and chilled m...
He pries me from his chest and drops his hand from the back of my head, tracing my ear, along my jawline. He snatches his fingers a moment before they press into my lip.
They danced slow circles in the sand, Javier singing the words to the Spanish version of the song, the melancholy music putting a strange ache in his chest, an ache he saw reflected in her eyes. Was she feeling what he was feeling?
Adrian stood there leaning against the doorframe, watching me with his heart in his eyes. In my chest, my own heart was breaking. On my cheek, the lily reminded me who I was.
You’re insane,” I told him, and stood up to dress. He hugged me from behind, pressing hard against me, rubbing his smooth chest along my back. He spoke into my ear, “Insane for you, my love.
My heart, for unknown reasons, seems to freeze in motion in my chest. I can see he senses it and he holds his pause to enjoy my suffering, prolonging my ignorance. “Viktor, what?
Floote shot his other gun. This time the bullet hit the man's chest. The vampire fell backward, crashed into a loaded display cabinet, and landed on the floor, making exactly the same sound a carpet makes when whacked to get the dust out.
Eugene's got a fake ID, and he actually gets away with using it because he looks like he's thirty-six, thanks to his devotion to tasseled shoes and his ridiculous carpet of chest hair.
There's no guarantee that justice will win out or that a noble sacrifice will make any difference. But when it does, there's something that still swells my chest. There's magic in that.... It tells me that's the way things are supposed to be.
Rosa Hubermann was sitting on the edge of the bed with her husband's accordion tied to her chest. Her fingers hovered above the keys. She did not move. She didn't ever appear to be breathing.
At that time, I had recently finished a book called Amazing Grace, which many people tell me is a very painful book to read. Well, if it was painful to read, it was also painful to write. I had pains in my chest for two years while I was writing that...
Emma hung up and hugged her pillow tight to her chest. He shouldn't be making her feel this special and desired. He was just a friend. Right, just a friend. She wasn't even fooling herself anymore.
A tightness in my chest came out of nowhere. As I listened to Amanda reassure my brother, I wanted to pull her into my arms and cry. How damn crazy was that? This girl was making me a nutcase.
The scar on my chest, the beating of my heart, and the mountains that fostered my appreciation for the cold, hard, natural world—these were the few things that mattered.
He turns back to me, a strong hand swooping down and sculpting hair off my face, familiar looking arms curling back around me and cradling me into a chest harder and hotter than a mountain left baking in the Australian outback.
I can still make a fist, and breath still burns in my chest. So look at my face. Look at my mortal soul, and remember it. You did not crush me, and you will have the rest of eternity to think on it.
She felt the smile turn the corners of her lips upward and placed her hand flat on his chest, just above his heart. “That’s yours now, babe,” Jason whispered, kissing her forehead. “Be careful with it, OK?
Listen, Harper. I realize how hard this is for you." A flash of anger heats up in my chest. She doesn't understand. She can't. If she did, she'd leave me alone instead of trying to force me to talk about this.
From that point of view, I realized that my hole was not miles deep after all. My father, in fact, could stand on the bottom and it only reached up to his chest. Darkness, you know, is relative.
The hollowness in his chest, the tense yearning, the loneliness he braces against, every morning until he can immerse himself in work and forget. Not love. Something else, something with a power that endures. Not love, but a memory of love.
Kiss me, babe."' "No, really." Beneath the light of a sixty-watt bulb on her porch, Adele Harris placed a hand on the chest of her latest date. "I've had enough excitement for one night.
