He’s always complaining about the fucking recession and how the government is working against people like him. He calls himself working class, which I think is a bit ironic since he doesn’t work.
He sucked in a breath, his head snapping back from hers. Groaning as he filled her, she arched her back against him, her nipples stroking his chest with the movement. They weren't going to make it to the living room. "Wall or floor?" he managed.
She leaned against him slightly, and his heart pounded in his chest. He let go of her hand and scooted away a bit. He could not let her like him, he was only her protector, and that's how it would remain.
In short, I ran away. I was about to fall in love. Aside from being opposed to getting involved with a guy, I'm a dried-up old man, just like he said. He's too dazzling to be with me. He's beyond me.
His moods changed minute to minute, and Jan could change him quicker than anyone. The more he loved her the more mixed up he got. He was such a beautiful man, but so unstable.
she was lucky if he stood behind her. Not so lucky if he came to crush her. And a woman might only learn the truth of it—when he walked out of her life. Highlighted by 9 Kindle users
A small, forced smile played at Aidan’s lips. “I don’t like it when someone hurts what’s mine,” he said. He reached out, brushing a thumb across my bottom lip, an intimate gesture, one that made me blush. “And he hurt you.
Sandar came to stand beside him, frowning down at the crumpled High Lord. "He does not look so mighty lying there," he said wonderingly. "He does not look so much greater than me.
He kissed her dizzy, then lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waisst as he kissed his way down her neck. "Make love to me," she whispered. "Like I'm a full-grown woman." He pulled back to look at her. "As opposed to...?
Every miserable fool who has nothing at all of which he can be proud, adopts as a last resource pride in the nation to which he belongs; he is ready and happy to defend all its faults and follies tooth and nail, thus reimbursing himself for his own i...
There is no reality except in action. Man is nothing else than his plan; he exists only to the extent that he fulfills himself; he is therefore nothing else than the ensemble of his acts, nothing else than his life.
I have no pain, but he has split open my skull. There is no matter, I mean, there is no brain in there. It, it is just a skull. And still he felt he had to open it to let energy in there.
'I don't remember if I thanked you for saving me,' he said. 'So thank you.' 'You're welcome.' 'Though after this morning, I've added you to the list of those trying to kill me.'
What the devil is Chocho?' Will whispered. Horace's grin broadened. 'You are. It's what the men call you,' he said. Then he added, 'It's a term of great respect.' Behind them, Halt nodded confirmation. 'Great respect,' he agreed.
Nowadays he doesn't think of his wife, though he knows he can turn around and evoke every move of her, describe any aspect of her, the weigh of her wrist on his heart during the night.
Eragon went to see the dragon for the first time since it had spoken to him. He approached apprehensively, aware now that it was an equal. "Eragon." "Is that all you can say?" he snapped. "Yes." His eyes widened at the unexpected reply, and he sat do...
He stroked her hair gently as he said, “You challenge me like no one ever has, like no one has ever dared. It’s frustrating…” he kissed her lips chastely, “…but also refreshing. And sometimes it even turns me on a little.
He had read about evil in Efanor's little book, and how it permeated the doings of Men, but he had never foud such doings evil, rather good and bad...but none without self-interest, none he could not understand even in terms of his own will to have h...
He could be distracted, still, by beauty, by the wonder of a stroke of sunlight. Perhaps at such times he made himself open to wizardry-or conversely, was as warded and safe at such moments as Ynefel at its strongest. Perhaps threats simply slid past...
You know what he taught me? He taught me to feel more. He taught me to give myself over to feelings. And now that's all I have. I'm swamped by them. I can't breathe because I feel so damn much.
He just watched the way Finnikin’s hands rested on Evanjalin’s neck and he rubbed his thumb along her jaw and the way his tongue seemed to disappear inside her mouth as if he needed a part of her to breathe himself.
