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His hands reached for me, gripping my hipbones and pulling me forward. he stared down at me, his voice low. There are some things I will make time for, Jacqueline.

Tammara Webber

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Tammara Webber
Make
Gripping
Things
Stared
Time
Pulling
Reached
Lows
Forward
Voice
Hands
Jacqueline

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I thought about texting Lucas, but what would i say? That I'd tossed and turned all night, thinking of his hands on me?
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I used to think of two people in love like that. Like puzzle pieces, fitting together. But it's not like that at all. Love pulls a part of you out, and it pulls a part of him - like taffy, stretching but not separating. The tendrils of each one wrap around the other, until they meld together. One, but not quite. Separate, but not quite.
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Wait. Stop? I bit my lip and nodded. Stop everything, or just go no further? Just...just no further. Done. He gathered me into his arms and kissed me, one hand tangled in my hair and the other one caressing down my back, our hearts pulsing out a cadence that the musician in me translated into a concert of lust.
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She's like a wind-up monkey that winds itself.
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The way he kissed me felt like a brand. Like he was tattooing himself under my skin.
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She shuddered. “What is it with slobbery kissers? Are they trying to drown us in spit? I mean, Jesus, swallow every now and then.
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