Attached At The Hip Quotes

I've even got one for you, too, Ellie." "Wow, thank you, Marcus." "The second one was supposed to be mine," he admitted with a shrug. "But since I don't want to look like a jackass, I'll give it to you. See what a nice guy I am?" I rolled my eyes at him. "God, Marcus, you're the sweetest guy ever." He grinned stupidly. "Actually, that's not true. I got it for you to begin with, because you two are attached at the hip and I figured you'd show up together. You're so predictable.

How do you know I have a brother?" Cal wasn't playing anymore. The suspicion was real and I was already moving, the switchblade hidden in my hand. "You always do. Or a cousin or a best friend bonded by blood. Something of thet dramatic overwrought nature. Someone who is wirtually attached to you at the hip. Let me speak to him. He's invariably more reasonable.

participants. This is an important lesson for someone with an anxious attachment style: If you just wait a little longer before reacting and jumping to conclusions, you will have an uncanny ability to decipher the world around you and use it to your advantage. But shoot from the hip, and you’re all over the place making misjudgments and hurting yourself. Once activated, they are often consumed

Close up she saw that Molina's eyes were beautiful and dark thik eye lashed the way Lisette's mother tried to make hers with a mascara brush. The skin beneath Molina's eyes were soft and bruised looking and on her throat were tiny dark moles. It did not seem right that a woman like Molina, who you could tell was a mother-her body was a mother's body for sure, wide hips-could be a cop;it did not seem right that this person was carrying a gun, in a holster attached to leather belt, and that she could use it, if she wanted to.

What's going on between us?" I don't know. I rubbed my hand over my face before glancing at Echo. A hint of her cleavage peeked from her shirt. Damn, she was sexy as hell. I wanted her, badly. Would one night be enough, even if she gave it to me? Echo already felt like a heavy drug. The kind I avoided on purpose—crack, heroin, meth. The ones that screwed with your mind, crept into your blood and left you powerless, helpless. If she gave her body to me, would i be able to let go or would i be sucked into that black veil, hooks embedded into my skin, sentenced to death by the emotion i reserved for my brothers-love? "I want you." "Do you? Really? Because these scars are sexy." How did she see her self? "I don't give a fuck about your scars." She stalked toward me, hips swaying side to side, eyes hardened with anger. Echo pushed her body agaist mine, parts of her fitting perfectly into parts of me. I swore under my breath, fighting for control over my body. "How are you going to react when we 're this close and you take off my shirt? Are you still going to want me when you see red and white lines? Are you going to flinch each time you accidentally touch my arms and feel the raised skin? How about when i touch you?" She pulled away from me, leaving my body cold after experiencing her warmth. "Or will you forbid that? Will you tell me how to dress or what i'm allowed to take off?" Her anger only fed mine. "For the last time I don't give a fuck about your scars." "Liar. Because the only way anyone will ever be okay with me is if they love me. Really love me enough to not care that I’m damaged. You don't love people. You have sex with them. So how could you want to be with me?" She'd summed me up perfectly. I didn't love people-only my brothers. Echo deserved more. Better than me. One shot. Take it or go home. Kiss her and risk an attachment or leave her and watch some other guy enjoy what could have been mine.

I pulled my dress to my hips, bunching it there in a way I was sure must look awkward, but there was no other way to move my legs apart. I considered unzipping the back and slipping it off to seem less ungainly, but I intended to give him not an inch more than he paid for or deserved. I had no illusion of modesty, but I was well aware of my worth as a commodity. If he wanted to see the curve of my back—and certainly if he wanted another look at my tits—there would be a price tag attached.

That little girl, I adore her, but she’s an anarchist. She wakes us up whenever she feels like it, she thinks high-energy at seven in the morning is a positive, sometimes she screams for no reason, she decides on a second-to-second basis which foods she’ll eat and which she’ll fight you over, she puts her hands and face into truly disgusting places, and she’s attached to our hips for at least another fourteen years, if we’re lucky enough for a college we can’t afford to take her off our hands.

My wolf wants to claim you. To make you mine. To protect you. But I’m trying to give you time, give you a choice even if it’s killing me. It’s why I keep messing up. I should’ve just staked my claim and let you deal with having me attached at your hip.

This is an important lesson for someone with an anxious attachment style: If you just wait a little longer before reacting and jumping to conclusions, you will have an uncanny ability to decipher the world around you and use it to your advantage. But shoot from the hip, and you’re all over the place making misjudgments and hurting yourself.

There is a rustle beside me and then the water moves. When I open my eyes, Wes is naked and standing in the shower stall, too. He’s unhooked the showerhead, which is attached to a hose. Humming to himself, he eases it around to rain down on my shoulders. “Tip your head back,” he says softly. When I do, he wets my hair. The water disappears a moment later, and then Wes’s hands are lathering up my head. We’ve showered together a hundred times, but never like this. I hate being dependent on him like this. Leaning forward, I rest my forehead on his hip bone and sigh. He just keeps going. The strong hands that I love so much skim the back of my neck, my shoulders, behind my ears. He rinses me next, shielding my forehead with his palm to keep the soap out of my eyes. They sting anyway from frustration. Then he kneels in front of me. When I look up, a serious pair of gray eyes are right there, level with mine. “Hey,” he says softly. “H-hey,” I stammer. Don’t mind me, I’m just having a fucking breakdown.

next adventure.  She’d been stupid to think, to hope, otherwise.  What that night meant to him was satisfaction of a need and acceptance of her offer of her body as the price for his forgiveness.  She thought he’d forgiven her now, which was a relief, but he certainly didn’t want her.  Her heart would eventually get over the silly attachment it had formed with him and she’d move on too. “I am going back with or without you.  I’d feel safer with you, but that’s your decision,” Fallon said, peeling his fingers back to step away.  “I’m sure the FBI will provide me with protection if you don’t go with me.” She walked toward the hallway to go pack her things, but felt Jax following hot on her heels as she entered the bedroom. The door slammed behind her and she spun.  The look in Jaxson’s eyes scared her as he stalked two steps to grab her shoulders, turn her to push her back into the door.  “I won’t let you go get yourself killed,” he growled, his head already in motion toward hers.   Fallon’s body melted when his lips touched hers, but his hips pinned her to the door as he ravaged her mouth, not seeming to care that she couldn’t even respond because he was kissing her so fast and hard.  She tried to move her hands up to his shoulders but couldn’t, because they were trapped between their bodies.  His heart pounded against her palms, almost as hard as her own drummed. Jax shoved his hand under her shirt, scorched a path up to her bra and shoved it aside to cup her breast.  Her nipple

NOVA SLUNG THE BAG over her shoulder and reached for one of the weighted ropes she’d set up in the alley the night before. She wrapped her arm around the rope and untied the sailor’s knot from the weights holding it to the ground. The weights attached to the opposite end dropped, dragging it through the pulley on the rooftop above. Nova jerked upward, holding tight as the rope whistled past the building’s concrete wall. The second set of weights crashed into the ground below. She stopped with a shudder, her hand only a few inches shy of the pulley, her body swinging six stories in the air. Nova threw her bag onto the rooftop, then grabbed the ledge and hauled herself over. She dropped down into a crouch and riffled through the bag, pulling out the uniform she had designed with Queen Bee’s help. She slung the weaponry belt across her hips, where it hung comfortably, outfitted with specially crafted pockets and hooks for all of her favorite inventions. Next, the snug black hooded jacket: waterproof and flame-retardant, yet lightweight enough to keep from inhibiting her movements. She zipped it up to her neck and tugged the sleeves past her knuckles before pulling up the hood, where a couple of small weights stitched into the hem held it in place over her brow. The mask came last. A hard metallic shell perfectly molded to the bridge of her nose that disappeared into the high collar of the jacket, disguising the lower half of her face. Transformation complete, she stooped and pulled the rifle and a single poisoned dart from the bag.

What the fuck was that about?” Vaughn said, standing over me. “I pissed him off.” Dark blue eyes flicking to the restroom, Vaughn reached back and scratched at his shoulder. “All I know is when Judd came back from Texas, he was all hollowed out. Like a ghost, I guess. This morning before his bitch fit, he looked alive again. Whatever you said or did, can’t be that big a deal compared to the shit mood he’s been in lately.” Glancing at the restroom, I wanted to go back to before I said the words. My honesty ruined our happy morning. “You can’t take it personally,” Vaughn added when I just stared at the restroom. “You know how moody Judd is. Always crying and bitching about something. A freaking drama queen.” Grinning, I looked up at him. “Thank you.” “Men like us aren’t used to pretty girls looking at them like you look at Judd. He’s not sure what to do with you and you’re just gonna have to be patient while he figures shit out.” “Okay,” I said, studied him. Whereas Judd hid a deep sorrow and iced heart behind his walls, I sensed Vaughn concealed a barely contained rage. He smiled easily enough, but it was a ruse. Just like Judd who acted like the world didn’t touch him, Vaughn faked his exterior to avoid showing anything to the world. “Why do they call you Outlaw?” I asked. Vaughn sighed. “Because it’s better than calling me dead man walking.” “I don’t understand.” “You don’t need to, darlin. The drama queen returns.” When Judd appeared next to me, his expression was unreadable while kissing me softly. When he pulled away, his gaze flickered to Vaughn. “Thanks.” “You are so premenstrual sometimes.” Grinning, Judd sat down across from me then glanced at Vaughn. “Fuck off.” Vaughn leaned his hip against the side of the booth and sized me up. “What is it about the Smith sisters that makes otherwise strong men lose their balls?” “I have no idea and I’m out of sisters, so I guess you’re out of luck.” “Thank the Lord too. I like my balls attached.

Some people are attached at the hip.....we are attached at the soul

The appendicular skeleton (ap0en-dik9u-lar) consists of the bones of the upper and lower limbs and the girdles (shoulder bones and hip bones) that attach the limbs to the axial skeleton (colored gold in Figure 6.1). Bones of the limbs help us move from place to place (locomotion) and manipulate our environment.

Lynetta bared her wickedly sharp pointed canines and hissed. Her long black hair hung wildly to her hips, tangled and teased by the breeze. She was petite like me but as strong as a male body builder. Her grip on Dominic remained iron tight. Her soul-less black eyes, vacant and without a care, really ate away at my heart. I surveyed the yard for any kind of weapon I could use against the vampire. My heart surged when I spied a colorful whirligig attached to a wooden stake embedded in my mother's pampered pansy garden nearby. Without a second's hesitation, I dashed for it and yanked it out. Running at the vampire, I screamed at the top of my lungs, "Death to the blood sucky vampire!" which gave me some courage. It wasn't every day I had to beat one vampire off of another when they didn't even really exist!

Because if I forgave him and forgot about all that immature self-righteous anger, I might remember the feelings I had for him. I might conjure up some memories of the great times we had together. I might think about what he said out by the fire pit that night, how we had been best friends one day and nothing the next. Attached at the hip for most of our lives and then it was like a body part had been removed. I might remember that I miss him, too. More than I care to admit.

The dollar bills attached to her hips fluttered to the rug of the small square stage, like the first flakes of winter in the Bronx. (Dark City Lights)

< ERROR > Trying to wiggle fingers no longer attached to his body. And so she wades hip-deep into the datastream, hands all ablur, and I instruct her how to crack my own fortification. It is like unraveling a part of myself. I know where the stone is weakest. But still, it is a castle. Towers reaching to the sky. A single termite gnawing at its foundations.

The misconception is that the genre is a breeding ground for negativity; that it is the birthplace of violence and misogynistic attitudes, and the genesis of every kind of unfavorable stereotype imaginable. When, in fact, if looked at through the lens of neutrality and open-mindedness, the virtues of hip hop far outweigh the negative stigma attached to it.

Man, we are both so fucked.” “Yep.” Despite the situation, Sloane couldn’t help teasing. “You’re in love with Dex’s brother. Do you know what that means?” “First of all, adopted brother. They don’t share the same genes. Second of all, what the hell are you talking about?” “Those two are attached at the hip. They hang out all the time, borrow each other’s stuff, share a lot of the same quirks, get excited over the same things, are both sugar addicts, and total geeks. You’ll have Dex in your hair. All. The. Time.” Ash’s horrified expression had Sloane laughing. “You are such a dick, you know that? I hadn’t even thought of it.” Sloane couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Still interested in being part of the family?” “Not even Daley can ruin what I feel for Cael.” “Wow. Then it must be love,” Sloane teased. Ash

But if they’re all rigid and stiff, then how do they move at all? Ahhh, that’s where the joints come in. The stiff shells and tubes are jointed, and the muscles that move their bodies are attached to the insides of them. This gives them rigid bodies, but flexible, movable legs. The arthropod’s body is built in sections or segments, and pairs of limbs stick out from the side or the bottom of certain body segments. The typical insect, like an ant or beetle, has a head, thorax and abdomen, along with three pairs of leg segments, giving them six legs altogether. To move, each leg moves (from the ‘hip’ joint where it contacts the body) up, forward, back, then down in an alternating pattern, driving the insect forward.

She tried the front door and it was unlocked, which actually surprised her. “Not open,” Mac’s deep, rumbly voice called out from the back about a second before he stepped out from his workshop. His eyes widened when he saw her. And he stood there looking like deer in headlights. Good. “Adeline,” he began. “A text? Seriously? You blow me off with a freaking text,” she snapped out, her boots stomping forward of their own volition. That burning fire that had spent days kindling was licking up her spine now as she worked up a good head of anger. He closed his eyes briefly as he moved toward her. “Look, it’s not what you think.” “Really? It’s not what I think? You didn’t send me a dismissive, crappy text about an hour before our date? After spending all that time together and becoming…friends.” Or she’d thought they had. Obviously she was wrong. “So you didn’t blow me off after all that? And then ignore me right in front of people on Main Street?” It was quite literally possible there was actual steam coming out of her ears right now. Guilt flickered across his expression for a moment but then his face went carefully neutral. “Look, I didn’t know how else to handle it. I just don’t think we should see each other. I shouldn’t have ignored you and I should have called, but—” She’d took another step forward, hands on hips, when the front door behind her swung open with a bang. She jumped and turned to find some guy stalking in. He had on heavy-looking boots, jeans, a short-sleeved T-shirt, and there was a chain hanging from his back pocket attached to his belt. And he had some ugly-looking tattoos on his arms. Prison tats.

But a woman could be two things at once. She could love her daughter and still want things that had nothing to do with her, that might even take her away from her. Birthing another person into the world didn’t mean you had to be constantly attached at the hip.

It seemed stupid that I had stayed in the cold stone room, knowing that as soon as the new day had crested, I was no longer in the Inquisitor’s service and no longer had to follow his orders. I finished eating and opened the package, revealing the complicated sections of leather pieces that somehow made up an outfit. Some of the sections were hardened with inlaid metal, a tarnished golden colour peeking through the stitching. I finally discerned something resembling the usual bodysuits worn beneath sectorian women’s clothing, though this one was different. It was thick brown leather, a silk underlining hidden on the inside. It moulded tightly to the body, two ovals cut into the sides, exposing the hips and the sides of the stomach and back. Some sort of covering fit over the top of the bodysuit, ending a few inches above the waist. The metal-inlaid patterns curved around the front of my chest and the top of my spine, connected with brown, buckled straps along my sides. A belted skirt slid over the hips, the belt pulling along the cut of the bodysuit, above my hips, another band looping around my hips. The skirt had two short layers. Yet another section of the outfit fit over my shoulders, metallic glimpses peering out from the leather that cupped my shoulders, attaching to the upper chest armour with straps. Another set of wraps covered my wrists and forearms, and I was glad to see the Inquisitor’s mark and the Spider’s mark disappearing from view. I was able to re-wear the same footwear, as there were also knee and thigh wraps in the same boiled brown leather that complemented the knee-high boots. The outfit was clearly some kind of warrior’s uniform. The Vold—and the Sentinels in particular—often wore revealing, scant clothing to show off their impressive physiques. With Calder’s cloak still on the ground, I could see half of his bare back above the golden armour that wrapped his torso. The muscles bunched and stretched as he pulled his forearm up for investigation. He had clearly stitched and re-dressed his wound after my dismal attempt at caring for it the night before. Despite my outfit showing so much skin, it was by far the heaviest thing I had ever worn, and I started to truly appreciate how quickly and silently Calder moved, weighed down as he must have been by so much armour. I tugged my hair over my shoulders, arranging the strands so that they might hide my face better. There was a lump in my throat when I stuffed everything back into my pack and muttered, “Done.

​I always start the swing by standing a foot behind the bell. This helps to drive the bell behind the hips as I stand up for the first swing. Once the bell is behind my hips, I drive my hips forward and swing the bell out away from my body. The upward motion is only due to my arms being attached to the bell.

Does this mean that in order to be happy in a relationship we need to be joined with our partner at the hip or give up other aspects of our life such as our careers or friends? Paradoxically, the opposite is true! It turns out that the ability to step into the world on our own often stems from the knowledge that there is someone beside us whom we can count on—this is the “dependency paradox.” The logic of this paradox is hard to follow at first. How can we act more independent by being thoroughly dependent on someone else? If we had to describe the basic premise of adult attachment in one sentence, it would be: If you want to take the road to independence and happiness, find the right person to depend on and travel down it with that person. Once you understand this, you’ve grasped the essence of attachment theory.

I have never had a connection with a dog like I have with Mo. Dogs I have had in the past, I loved them dearly, but Mo is different. We are attached at the hip, I am obsessed, so much it hurts. Mo is an infinitely joyous little being who exudes love every minute of the day. Having Mo gave me a lot—routine, responsibility, walking, but primarily he expanded my heart. The care I feel is bottomless, a lesson learned from Mo.

She was always so smart, so creative. She could've done anything, and I know she loves being a mom, but I can also understand why she needed this so badly, the chance to be a lone person before she's got a newborn attached to her hip again.

Thermoburn Thermoburn Reviews the essential results. Chd is a developmental deseases of that this bones performing in which the top attached to the higher leg bone improperly fits the hip socket, causing harm to the cartilage, slight destruction of most the joint, pain and swelling. Fiber is probably described as moreover fantastic for ingestion and stylish bowel fitness related. The device moreover guarantees to paintings you a latest fats-loose existence, more electricity and particular mind as for the set of your preferred lifestyles. Manifestly, you end up being going

The hanging technique 1.     Approach and strike to the opponent’s kidney and wrap your other forearm around his neck. 2.     Pivot your hips back and bend your knees, joining your hands and locking them together. 3.     Roll your opponent on to his back, to the opposite hip, lifting his feet off the ground. In this position it is very hard for your opponent to escape. 4.     Look at his heels and wait for them to drop. When they drop, he has probably fainted. Note: This is a favorite skilled technique. While there are easier, more effective, and less risky techniques, I wanted to use this technique to stress the importance of a quick reaction. Many times, this hold can end on the ground, or be accompanied by a knife threat. However, anything less conclusive would make it easier to escape. Keep in mind that if your opponent is grabbing you with one hand while holding a weapon with the other, he cannot strangle you, and you should concentrate your efforts on preventing injury before thinking of escaping the hold. Release from neck hold from the rear 1.     First move both hands towards the opponent’s eyes in an attempt to poke them. 2.     Land your hands on the opponent’s wrists, pulling them down as you gain your breath. If the grip is too forceful to pull down, use your hands to attach the attacker's hands to your chest and lean your head backward to release the pressure on your neck. 3.     Pivot your body and your chin to the direction of the opponent’s hands, easing your head out. 4. Push with both shoulders, making room for your head to exit. 5.     Let go of your right hand and use it to grab the attacker’s elbow before standing up. That would surely keep him down. Hold the opponent at the wrist and elbow and kick to his face. 6.     You can kick his coccyx bone or the groin according to his position.

So Jacob called the place Peniel,11 saying, “It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared.” The sun rose above him as he passed Peniel,12 and he was limping because of his hip. Therefore to this day the Israelites do not eat the tendon attached to the socket of the hip, because the socket of Jacob’s hip was touched near the tendon.

I don’t expect anything less from the two best friends who have been attached at the hip since kindergarten.

To make sure you’re swinging without using your arms, attach a lifting strap or very short rope [or a towel] to a kettlebell... “Try a few swings. If you’re driving the weight up with your hips, the bell, rope, and arm should all be in one line throughout the rep. If you’re using your arms, your hands will rise up above the strap and bell.

3.​Tighten the straps until your stomach looks like an overfilled muffin top. 4.​Take your shoulder straps in both hands, and tighten them by pulling down like you’re trying to kill the muffin top with triceps push-ups. 5.​Attach the chest strap and tighten lightly—not so much you can’t breathe, but enough to stabilize the top of your pack on your back. 6.​Grab the straps behind your head and pull them down, like the legs of a toddler that you’ll kick off your back if it doesn’t stop flailing. 7.​You should feel like your pack is teetering off your hips, with about an inch between your shoulder and the shoulder strap. Adjusted properly, it should feel like more of your weight is being carried by your hips, not your shoulders. Good job—you’re on your way to becoming a chiropractor’s dream.

In the earliest tests, the temporary hoverboard was just a skateboard with the wheels popped off. The base was screwed into the stuntmen’s shoes, and the performers were put in harnesses that attached at the hips and were connected to a large crane.

BILATERAL COORDINATION Ball Catch—Toss a large beach ball gently to the child from a short distance. As he becomes more competent, use a smaller ball and step farther away. Ball Whack—Have the child hold a baseball bat, rolling pin, broomstick, book, cardboard tube, or ruler in both hands. Remind her to keep her feet still. Toss her a big ball. As she swings, her body will rotate, as her arms cross the midline. Two-Handed Tetherball—Suspend a sponge ball at the child’s eye level from a string attached to a wide doorframe. Let your child choose different “bats.” Have her count how many hits she makes without missing. Try four-handed tetherball, in which you play, too. Balloon Fun—Using both hands together, the child bounces or tosses up a balloon and catches it. He can keep it afloat by whacking it with open hands or batting it repeatedly with hands clasped together in one large “fist.” Rolling-Pin Fun—Provide the child with a cylindrical block or a rolling pin without handles, so he presses down with his opened hands. Have him roll real dough, playdough, crackers, clay—or mud! Body Rhythms—While you chant or sing, clap, and tap different body parts and have your child imitate your motions. Tip your head from side to side, wave your arms overhead, shake icky sticky glue off your hands, pound your chest, slap your hips, bend from side to side, hunch and relax your shoulders, stamp your feet, and hop from foot to foot. Use both hands together or alternately.

A well-conditioned oarsman or oarswoman competing at the highest levels must be able to take in and consume as much as eight liters of oxygen per minute; an average male is capable of taking in roughly four to five liters at most. Pound for pound, Olympic oarsmen may take in and process as much oxygen as a thoroughbred racehorse. This extraordinary rate of oxygen intake is of only so much value, it should be noted. While 75–80 percent of the energy a rower produces in a two-thousand-meter race is aerobic energy fueled by oxygen, races always begin, and usually end, with hard sprints. These sprints require levels of energy production that far exceed the body’s capacity to produce aerobic energy, regardless of oxygen intake. Instead the body must immediately produce anaerobic energy. This, in turn, produces large quantities of lactic acid, and that acid rapidly builds up in the tissue of the muscles. The consequence is that the muscles often begin to scream in agony almost from the outset of a race and continue screaming until the very end. And it’s not only the muscles that scream. The skeletal system to which all those muscles are attached also undergoes tremendous strains and stresses. Without proper training and conditioning—and sometimes even with them—competitive rowers are apt to experience a wide variety of ills in the knees, hips, shoulders, elbows, ribs, neck, and above all the spine. These injuries and complaints range from blisters to severe tendonitis, bursitis, slipped vertebrae, rotator cuff dysfunction, and stress fractures, particularly fractures of the ribs. The common denominator in all these conditions—whether in the lungs, the muscles, or the bones—is overwhelming pain. And that is perhaps the first and most fundamental thing that all novice oarsmen must learn about competitive rowing in the upper echelons of the sport: that pain is part and parcel of the deal. It’s not a question of whether you will hurt, or of how much you will hurt; it’s a question of what you will do, and how well you will do it, while pain has her wanton way with you.

She let him help her into the water, gracefully sliding her legs into the depths before hissing in a sharp breath. “So cold.” “I will carry you,” he murmured, wrapping one of his arms around her back and drawing her closer to him. “Let me keep you warm, Mira.” A soft smile crossed her features before she yanked down the first of her face coverings. Magnified eyes stared up at him, blinking a few times and overly large. “Sexy, right?” The translator she’d attached to his ear wasn’t helpful for the first word. But he could guess by the rounded sounds and the way she quirked her lips before putting the device over her mouth. And oh, it made all the colors in his body flare bright. Was she... interested in him? Surely not. They were two very different species and that wouldn’t work. They didn’t fit. But then she swam a little closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and slotting her feet back into the fins at his hips that were always a little warmer. Warm to keep his offspring safe should he wish to mate with someone. A position he was certain she did not know was so tempting that it made his hips buck forward.