He runs his hands up my back and into my hair, pulling me closer. I lose myself in the feel of his body against mine and the way his soft lips coax mine to life. Almost without thinking, I wrap my arms around his warm waist.
Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His over-whelming good looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me? The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip? I wish he'd stop doing that.
He'd shoved his toque and mitts into the sleeve of his parka when he'd come in the night before, and now, thrusting his right arm into the armhole, he hit the blockage. At a practiced shove the pompom of the toque crowned the cuff followed by his mit...
When one sense is diminished, the others burn more brightly. In a blindfold, you feel every minute motion of his hand as it crosses your body, his fingertips finding secret places, his palm on bare buttocks, his cock nudging at your clitoris.
He placed the tip of his fingers on her chin and tilted her head up to his. Rylan slowly closed her eyes as she felt his breathing quicken. The chill of his lips as they pressed against hers made her buckle at the knees, falling even further into him...
I breathed deeply of Sam’s manly scent – his pheromones – as his tongue burned in my mouth, his lips joined mine with violent softness, and his hands pulled my head even closer to him.
He smacked the heel of his hand against his forhead, as if that could knock the mental picture out of his head. Hell, he though irritably, he didn't want to knock the image just out of his head. He wanted to send it clear across the room and out the ...
He set the helmet on the floor beside the door and slung his jacket over the back of one chair. He tilted his head sideways to look at her, one eyebrow raised. “I’m not going to ask why. I’m going to make assumptions.
Max never intended to be messy with his writing, which he could read just fine, years later if necessary, even if his teachers couldn’t. He merely found that his active mind tended to move too fast for his hand to keep up with.
Caine usually woke from the recurring dream mid-air, having yet to be dashed upon the rocks, whimpering and panting like a child crying for his mother. Now he lifted his eyes to a dark, empty room in Jizan and the unusual, lingering scent of roses, a...
Everything’s different from us. That’s why everything exists.
A man vows, and yet will not east away the means of breaking his vow. Is it that he distinctly means to break it? Not at all; but the desires which tend to break it are at work in him dimly, and make their way into his imagination, and relax his musc...
He came up straight to her father, whose hands he took and wrung without a word - holding them in his for a minute or two, during which time his face, his eyes, his look, told of more sympathy than could be put into words.
Soldiers manage by dividing themselves. They're one man in the killing, another at home, and the man that dandles his bairn on his knee has nothing to do wi' the man who crushed his enemy's throat with his boot, so he tells himself, sometimes success...
Tears ache in my throat and each time his lips caress mine I’m closer to the dam within me bursting open. He’s undoing me, tearing out my demons with burning strokes of his lips and the salty taste of his mouth. In his arms, I’m changing, becom...
Ben hid a wince behind his hand, trying very hard not to think of seventy-year-old Ellie Verstgard rolling around with Mr. Wenner. Despite his best resistance, the image scrolled across his brain and took some of his love for the world with it.
Soft and sweet, and burning like fire all at once, his lips clung to mine desperately. His large hand cupped the back of my head,pulling me even closer, and my arms wrapped around his neck holding him close. His kiss devoured me and left me aching fo...
With a lump forming in his throat, he thought about all the hopes and dreams that he had for his son. More than anything, he prayed his boy would not grow up to be a screw up like his dad when it came to love and marriage.
Well, she asked him questions about his age and his attainments. The fact that he was a Catholic gave her pause, but when I explained to her that the present Pope was a well-meaning sort of chap, she said she was prepared to meet him halfway.
Selfish in his posture; material at his grasp, smirk upon his face; but this success will not last. For you see, son, his purpose; lost along the way, He started only living; for the dollar that he made. Never make that error; for a dime to loose sig...
It is easy to bare your body, but it is difficult to bare your soul. What works for me is that I am not a city-raised boy with city-raised sensibilities. I can play the vulnerable tough man, the guy with a gun in his hand, tears in his eyes, fire in ...
