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Dropping her hand, she turned in his arms. Then, rising up on tiptoe, she cupped his face in her palms and drew him down. Her kiss was innocent, vulnerable, a caress so gentle that it made him her slave between one breath and the next.

Nalini Singh

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Nalini Singh
Age: 79
Born: 1945
Born: February 17
Author
Journalist
Writer
Face
Vulnerable
Caress
Faces
Breaths
Drew
Next
Innocent
Palms
Hands
Kissing
Dropping
Made
Slave
Kiss
Turned
Rising
Cupped
Arms
Gentle
Tiptoe
Hand
Breath
Tiptoes

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Two broken pieces making a whole.
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When you want something so bad it hurts,” he said quietly, “and you bury it, bury it so deep that you convince yourself it no longer matters . . . and someone tells you you can have it, it's terrifying. What if you take the chance and you're wrong? What if you let yourself feel the loss and it's this huge pain and you can't put it back in the box?
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Why are you sad, Dorian? He couldn't lie to her. The leopard wants you to see it.
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You can run,” Dorian said in a neutral tone that did nothing to lessen the intensity of his expression, “but sooner or later, you run out of places to run to.
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A life is not a waste of time
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Illium, with his wings of silver-kissed blue and a face designed to seduce both males and females, not to mention his ability to do the most impossible acrobatics in the air, would provide a worthy diversion. The fact that he’d decided to ditch half his clothing was just icing on the cake.
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No one goes through life with a whole heart.
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No one has ever been able to pinpoint the trigger. But? But it is legend that ambrosia only rises when- She held her breath. - an archangel loves true.
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I could kiss you forever, she murmured against his lips, sucking at the lower one, playing with the upper, his body weight a luscious pressure. I love feeling you against me. You say such things, Elena. You will make me your slave.
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Under her palm, his heart beat strong and sure. It was such a human sound, so honest, so real.
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Truth was a tool. It should never simply be said. No, it had to be bent, twisted, colored, until it became a weapon.
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I wouldn't wish my consort to suffer ennui.
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To fight is to face death once more, perhaps the total annihilation of their kind. But to run... is that not also a kind of annihilation?
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He leaned a fraction closer. “My lovers have always been warrior women. Strength intrigues me.” She refused to let him play with her like this, even if her body disagreed. Vehemently. “Do knives intrigue you, too? Because touch me and I will cut you up. I don’t care if you throw me off the nearest balcony.
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I almost let the best thing that ever happened to me slip away because I was hung up on ideas of what I ‘should’ want. Sometimes there is no ‘should,’ there’s only a single chance to grab on to happiness.
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