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Jake's mouth found mine, his lips molding hot and soft to my own. His tongue tentatively tested the seal of my lips I parted them and he pushed inside. It was startlingly sweet and achingly familiar, like finding harbor.
Josh Lanyon
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Josh Lanyon
Mouths
Tested
Molding
Lips
Soft
Parted
Mines
Hot
Jake
Mine
Mouth
Seal
Sweet
Familiar
Harbor
Inside
Tongue
Seals
Startlingly
Found
Findings
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Achingly
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Tentatively
More quotes by Josh Lanyon
Have I ever told you, you look like Monty Clift? he inquired in a deep, seductive voice. Before or after the accident?
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He was probably selfish in the sack. Probably selfish and greedy and...unsophisticated. And hung like a horse.
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Anyone who wasn't half-stoned on pain meds would have instantly realized what a really bad idea this plan was, but since that didn't include me, I didn't worry about it.
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You know that thing about Death Be Not Proud? Well, Fear Be Not Proud either. And Fear Be Not Elegant. What Fear be is stumbling, bumbling flight, crashing through brush, slip-sliding on pine needles, sloshing through puddles that are always deeper than you expect.
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Shrugging out of the damaged shirt, Jake said roughly, “I still dream about you.” “I have nightmares about you.” I dragged my T-shirt over my head, threw it aside.
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I know you've all heard the advice, Show, don't tell. The best writers don't tell you, and quite frankly they don't just show you -- they make you feel it, live it, taste it, touch it. Storytelling is about being in the moment with the characters.
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Focus on someone else’s problems for a change, I instructed myself. You need the practice. From now on you’ll have to live in a world you didn’t make up. Horrible thought.
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He scooped up Victoria practically before she hit the ground, well within the five-second rule. If she'd been a potato chip, he could have still eaten her. Not something I particularly wanted to contemplate.
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Cops before breakfast.Before coffee even. As if Mondays weren't bad enough.
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Tiffs among the faggots were apparently the stuff of quiet merriment.
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When you live with a potentially life-threatening condition you get used to the thought of dying. You accept it, you push on. The thing that scared me was the picture of dying slowly and painfully, the loss of independence and identity to illness.
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The only thing worse than opera is someone who hums along with opera.
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I thought again how odd it was to be on formal terms with someone you had once permitted to lick your ears.
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I love you, Jake whispered. Are you strong enough for this? I made myself comfortable. Said over my shoulder, Sure. Would you tell me if you weren't? I grinned. Maybe. I can't think of a nicer way to commit suicide. That's good. I can't think of a more pleasant way to commit murder.
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He looked okay. No, to be honest. He looked a lot better than okay. He looked...fine. Fine, as in get the Chiffons over here to sing a chorus.
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How did people get over this? They obviously did. Every day someone fell in love with the wrong person and had to pack up all their fragile, misguided hopes and unwanted affection, and move on to the next picnic table.
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Adrien, people get killed all the time. Since when is it your job to find out what happened to them? I'm not usually suspected of murdering them. You have been as long as I've known you.
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Kit, you're forty. You look thirty. You act...well, never mind. You're carrying on like you think you're seventy
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Do you still do the clubs?” Jake shakes his head. “You do the clubs because you can’t find what you need at home. I’ve got everything I need. I’ve got the answer to needs I didn’t even know I had.
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Drink your coffee -- people in Africa are sleeping.
Josh Lanyon
