Cheeks Dimple Quotes

He scanned my face with careful hope in his eyes. “You love me?” “It’s the tattoos,” I shrugged. A wide smile stretched across his face, making his dimple sink into his cheek.

Hey," I said softly and cupped his cheek. "Yeah?" “What about your dream?” His face went dimples. “I’m lookin’ at it, darlin’.” Oh. Crap. My heart felt near bursting. I was absolutely done for. This man owned me, body and soul, and everything in between.

I hear Warner laugh. I see him smile. It's the kind of smile that transforms him into someone else entirely, the kind of smile that puts stars in his eyes and a dazzle on his lips and I realize I've never seen him like this before. I've never seen his teeth--so straight, so white, nothing less than perfect. A flawless, flawless exterior for a boy with a black, black heart. It's hard to believe there's blood on the hands of the person I'm staring at. He looks soft and vulnerable--so human. His eyes are squinting from all his grinning and his cheeks are pink form the cold. He has dimples. He's easily the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And I wish I'd never seen it.

Is this a bookstore scavenger hunt?” I bounced on my feet, unable to contain my delight. “Scavenger hunt and puzzle.” Josh’s cheek dimpled. “Have to make sure your brainpower meets my standards, Red. I don’t date dummies.” “Understandable. Someone has to be the brains in the relationship.

Willa’s big blue eyes, Willa’s dimpled-cheeked smile. Tiffin’s shaggy blond mane, Tiffin’s cheeky grin. Kit’s yells of excitement, Kit’s glow of pride. Maya’s face, Maya’s kisses, Maya’s love. Maya, Maya, Maya . . .

You hand fits in mine like its made to be but bear this in mind it was meant to be and im joining up the dots with the freckles on you cheeks and it all makes sense to me. I know you've never loved the crinkles by your eyes when you smile you've never loved your stomach or your thighs and the dimples in your back at the bottom of your spine but I love them endlessly.I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth but if i do its you oh its you they add up to and Im in love with you and all your little thing. You can't go to bed without a cup of tea and maybe thats the reason that you talk in you sleep and all those conversations are the secrets that I keep though it makes no sense to me. I know you've never loved the sound of your voice on tape you never want to know how much you weigh you still have to squeeze into to your jeans but you're perfect to me. I won't let these little things slip out of my mouth but if its true its you its these they add up to and Im in love with you and all you little things. You'll never love yourself half as much as I love you and you'll never treat yourself right darlin' but I want you to if I let you know I'm here for you then maybe you'll love yourself like I love you ohhhhh. And I've just let these little things slip out of my mouth cause its you oh its you its you they add up to and Im in love with you and all your little things I wont let these little things slip out of my mouth but if its true its you its you they add up to and im in love with you and all your little things. <3

This boy was so far out of my league it was embarrassing. I found myself staring at him, trying to find some minute flaw that might justify dragging him back to my level. Finding nothing, I decided that having a dimple on only one cheek was practically a deformity.

Philip: "You are even more beautiful when you're angry" Marianne: "Don't be absurd" Philip: "I'm not" Philip: "You should see yourself, with that flash of fire in your eyes. And when you press your lips together like that, a dimple appears in your left cheek, right next to your mouth. I find it... maddening

If you happen to be one of the people who has a split zygomaticus major muscle, where the lower part of it is tethered to the overlying skin, this will create a dimple in your cheek when you smile.

Want to get ready for bed?” My other eye flew open. He shook his head and the dimple appeared in his left cheek. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” “Oh.” “Yeah, oh,” he said

I just want to make you happy, to kiss that dimple on your right cheek and know I made you smile.

It was this: Gansey saying, "I like you an awful lot, Blue Sargent." It was this: Blue's smile – crooked, wry, ridiculous, flustered. There was a lot of happiness tucked in the corner of that smile, and even though her face was several inches from Gansey, some of it still spilled out and got on him. She put her finger on his cheek where he knew his own smile was dimpling it, and then they took each other’s hands, and they climbed back up together. It was this: this moment and no other moment, and for the first time that Gansey could remember, he knew what it would feel like to be present in his own life.

Have I told you,” I said, bending low to whisper in his ear, “how beautiful you are when you smile?” He smiled then, the kind of smile that dimpled his cheek and set my heart on fire. “Tell me.” “Sometimes when I look at you, I can’t breathe.” My hand moved to his belt. “I can’t think. I can’t function until you look back. And when you give me this smile”—I brushed my knuckle against his dimple—“it’s like a secret just for the two of us. I don’t think I ever love you more than when you smile at me.

I’m…pretty sure I’m in love with Travis,” My eyes still focused on the pavement, I handed Travis his phone, and then reluctantly peered up at his expression. A combination of confusion, shock, and adoration scrolled across his face. He scanned my face with careful hope in his eyes. “You love me?” “It’s the tattoos,” I shrugged. A wide smile stretched across his face, making his dimple sink into his cheek. “Come home with me,” he said, enveloping me in his arms. My eyebrows shot up. “You said all that to get me in bed? I must have made quite an impression.” “The only thing I’m thinking about right now is holding you in my arms all night.” “Let’s go,” I smiled.

His tongue licked at the silver ring through his bottom lip and a large set of dimples set on his cheeks.

Don’t tell the others,” he said. When she stepped back, he’d pulled his boyish face over his features again. “Do you need to go?” Blue asked. She meant go for ever, but she couldn’t say it out loud. He whispered, “Not yet.” Blue wiped a tear from her face with the heel of her hand, and he wiped a tear from her other cheek with the heel of his. His chin dimpled in that way that comes before tears, but she put her fingers against it and it resolved. They were wheeling towards the end of something, and they both knew it.

Towards midnight the rain ceased and the clouds drifted away, so that the sky was scattered once more with the incredible lamps of stars. Then the breeze died too and there was no noise save the drip and tickle of water that ran out of clefts and spilled down, leaf by leaf, to the brown earth of the island. The air was cool, moist, and clear; and presently even the sound of the water was still. The beast lay huddled on the pale beach and the stains spread, inch by inch. The edge of the lagoon became a streak of phosphorescence which advanced minutely, as the great wave of the tide flowed. The clear water mirrored the clear sky and the angular bright constellations. The line of phosphorescence bulged about the sand grains and little pebbles; it held them each in a dimple of tension, then suddenly accepted them with an inaudible syllable and moved on. Along the shoreward edge of the shallows the advancing clearness was full of strange, moonbeam-bodied creatures with fiery eyes. Here and there a larger pebble clung to its own air and was covered with a coat of pearls. The tide swelled in over the rain-pitted sand and smoothed everything with a layer of silver. Now it touched the first of the stains that seeped from the broken body and the creatures made a moving patch of light as they gathered at the edge. The water rose further and dressed Simon's coarse hair with brightness. The line of his cheek silvered and the turn of his shoulder became sculptured marble. The strange, attendant creatures, with their fiery eyes and trailing vapours busied themselves round his head. The body lifted a fraction of an inch from the sand and a bubble of air escaped from the mouth with a wet plop. Then it turned gently in the water. Somewhere over the darkened curve of the world the sun and moon were pulling; and the film of water on the earth planet was held, bulging slightly on one side while the solid core turned. The great wave of the tide moved further along the island and the water lifted. Softly, surrounded by a fringe of inquisitive bright creatures, itself a silver shape beneath the steadfast constellations, Simon's dead body moved out towards the open sea.

Oh, my god!” I said to Reyes, my eyes radiating accusations at him. “She took your picture? Just what kind of game are you playing? You’re under arrest, mister.” His mouth tilted and a dimple emerged on one cheek as I took his wrist and threw him against a wall. Or, well, urged him toward it. I held him against the cool wood with one hand and frisked him with the other.

I gave a relenting sigh. "Fine! I'll throw on some clothes. Turn around. I'm in my pj's." Pj's that consisted of nothing but a tank top and boy shorts--an image I didn't want to sear into Scott's mind. Scott smiled. "I'm a guy. That's like asking a kid not to glance at the candy counter." Ugh. The dimple in his cheek deepened. And it was not in any way cute...

Tatooine, huh? So awesome you know Star Wars facts,” he adds nodding. “Do you ever watch the animated stuff?” Grin. Grin. Grin. I'm seriously at risk of an old-style faint. Holy-WTHECK? My neck and cheeks are volcano-hot. My entire chest swarms with an uncontrollable butterfly attack. Butterfly riot. Butterfly massacre. Person slaughtered: Me. Method used: Dimple. The guy has a dimple. Of course he does. To match the Hollywood chin divot. To make the lump on my forehead pound even harder. Points for Gray Porter: 3,000,000-bajallion, trillion to the millionth power.

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; The children were nestled all snug in their beds; While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap, When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave a lustre of midday to objects below, When what to my wondering eyes did appear, But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer, With a little old driver so lively and quick, I knew in a moment he must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blixen! To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!" As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; So up to the housetop the coursers they flew With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too— And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack. His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow; The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath; He had a broad face and a little round belly That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread; He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight— “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

And then he laughed. It was short and brief, but genuine and made the dimples stand out on his scruffy cheeks. It was the best sound I’d heard all year.

There is one kind of laugh that I always did recommend; it looks out of the eye first with a merry twinkle, then it creeps down on its hands and knees and plays around the mouth like a pretty moth around the blaze of a candle, then it steals over into the dimples of the cheeks and rides around in those whirlpools for a while, then it lights up the whole face like the mellow bloom on a damask rose, then it swims up on the air, with a peal as clear and as happy as a dinner-bell, then it goes back again on gold tiptoes like an angel out for an airing, and it lies down on its little bed of violets in the heart where it came from.

A residual smile lingered on his face, making the dimple in his cheek sink in. The more he smiled, the more I wanted to hate him, and yet it was the very thing that made hating him impossible.

And then he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, one hand moving up to cup her cheek, thumb just under her jaw while his fingers tangled in her hair. Rishi kissed her with purpose, with meaning, like he believed this was exactly where they were supposed to be in this moment. He kissed her till she believed it too.

As he grinned, a dimple formed on his right cheek. My heart quivered. Men like him should come with a warning: date at your own risk

He is fully smiling now. He has a heart-stopping dimple on his left cheek, and . . . Okay, fine: he’s aggressively hot.

Eli grinned, a dimple appearing on one cheek. "Could it be you're starting to care whether Lance Rathbone lives or dies? Miracles and wonders abound." "Shut up

See? Instead of thinking of a way to help my people, all I can think of is the smell of your hair and that small dimple on your cheek when you smile.” (Victor)

It's been 12 years now, and I think he still can read my smiles. The way my lips stretch, making my eyes look smaller than they already are. The way my cheeks turn a little red, forming new wrinkles near my eyes. The way the dimple on my face makes a visit whenever I smile meeting someone I haven't seen in ages. It's been 12 years now, and I haven't smiled at him even once.

I reached for a Coca-Cola. “Want some?” I asked. “I do not drink caffeine,” he said. “Wow, you make me look like a bad girl; that's hard to do.” He cracked a big smile for the first time I'd seen, and a huge dimple appeared in his right cheek. A butterfly wing flapped in my stomach. I turned my attention back to the drinks, fumbling a little for a cup. “Don't let me pressure you,” I said. “I was only kidding. We don't need you all hyped up on caffeine. How about ginger ale instead?" “Is that drink not only for upset stomachs?

If i opened the door would he be there? would he smile at me and show his dimples? Would his cheeks be scruffy because he needed a shave? Would he hug me? all i've wanted all these monthes was for him to be alive. But i'd seen him on the floor. i'd seen him in the coffin. And you can feel it when someone has died, you can feel that his soul is gone, just gone, the emptiness of his body.

I don't want blood to rule my life like it does some. Once you take it, it's like a drug." He stared out the window to the masked revelers in the courtyard. "Warm, rich, never enough." I nodded, fidgeting with my mask. "Kind of like chocolate." I tried to hold in my grin. Casey always said I had a weird sense of humour that came at the oddest times. He blinked before bursting into laughter. He had the nicest laugh and the most incredible smile I'd ever seen. It lit his grey eyes and sliced attractive little dimples into his cheeks. "Yeah. I guess it is like chocolate.

He had the kind of smile that inhabited every part of his face-his eyes, his cheeks; there was even a dimple. I wear my heart on my sleeve, that smile said, and no woman could be unmoved by such transparency.

But truth be told, I'm not as dour-looking as I would like. I'm stuck with this round, sweetie-pie face, tiny heart-shaped lips, the daintiest dimples, and apple cheeks so rosy I appear in a perpetual blush. At five foot four, I barely squeak by average height. And then there's my voice: straight out of second grade. I come across so young and innocent and harmless that I have been carded for buying maple syrup. Tourists feel more safe approaching me for directions, telemarketers always ask if my mother is home, and waitresses always, always call me 'Hon.

A smile curved his lips. Stunned, she stood there unable to move as she saw the one thing she'd never thought to see form him. A real, full-blown smile. The man was absolutely gorgeous. "My God, you have dimples." His smile vanished instantly. "I know." "No, no, no, no, no!" she said, reaching up to touch his cheek. "Don't you dare hide those. They're beautiful." He dodged her touch. "They look stupid." She let out an aggravated breath. "They are sexy as all get-out. Trust me. Dimples like those will definitely get you laid.

Love is not about the Dimples on the Cheeks but it is about the Heart that Beats

It's a bitch on this ship, isn't it?' That got an unexpected smile out of the symp. Musey had two dimples on his cheeks that made him look about half his chronological age.

I kissed her again, slow and soft. Poppy’s eyes remained closed afterward, then as a blush spread on her beautiful dimpled cheeks, she whispered, “A forever kiss with my Rune … in our blossom grove … when he finally came home.” She smiled. I smiled. Then she added, “… and my heart almost burst.

Martin smiled, the slow curve of his mouth revealing a dimple in his left cheek. Violet frowned, as she did every time she saw that dimple. It didn’t belong on his face. It was as simple as that. Dimples were impish and mischievous. They spoke of laughter and pleasure, not three piece suits and pipes and slippers and cardigans with elbow patches.

I don't care if we only have a few days together, I want to spend every second by your side. I want to memorize every curve of your face, and I want to see you smile and kiss that dimple in your cheek.

I know I can be too much, but I think I’m just enough for you. I have no interest in forcing you into anything,” he continues. “But I want you to know that this past month with you has been the very best I’ve ever had. I should have told you that last night, but I was overwhelmed and nervous and everything came out wrong. Arrangement or no, everything I’ve felt with you, everything I’ve said to you—” He shakes his head slightly, that smile finally tripping from his eyes to the curve of his cheeks. I get the barest hint of a dimple before it’s gone again. “It’s been the most honest—the most real thing I’ve ever felt.

~Almost like he can feel my eyes or my though on him, Trick turns around. His gaze locks with mine like there isn't a room full of people between us. We stare at each other for a few seconds and then, real slow, he grins. Good god, he has dimples! I might die! Right on cue, my cheeks get hot. Here we go again. His grin widens into a smile and he winks at me. I'm pretty sure my toes are numb. I watch him turn away. Before his head completely disappears, I consider what Jenna said. Maybe I should go and ask for the treat...

I still can’t believe we are tracking Bigfoot,” Sophie whispered as she stared at the giant footprint in the muddy soil. Each massive toe was as wide as her arm, and the print formed a deep, mucky puddle. Dex laughed, flashing two perfect dimples as he stood on his tiptoes to examine a scuff in the bark of a nearby tree. “Do humans really think there’s a giant hairy ape-man running around trying to eat them?” Sophie turned away, pulling her blond hair around her face to hide her flushing cheeks. “Pretty crazy, right?

I guessed I’d been out of it when he’d (Hephaestus) showed. “I can’t believe Apollo hit me with a god bolt.” “I can’t believe Aiden punched him,” Marcus said, downing the rest of his wine. “What?” My mouth dropped open. “You did not.” The half-grin spread until a dimple appeared in his left cheek. “I did.” “All those times you yelled at me for hitting people, and you hit a god?” I couldn’t believe it. That half-grin turned into a full smile. “This was a different situation.

Backslapping and smiling all around. Even Matthias. “Oh my God,” I croaked. They all froze. “You have dimples!” The rest of the boys grinned at the Aussie who slapped a hand over his mouth to help cover the deep, adorable dimples prominently displayed in each cheek. He pointed a finger at us and said, “Knock it off!” but from behind his hand it actually came out “Naw ih aw!” We laughed harder. He gave up the hand and turned away in a huff, but the dimples remained.

Why would you want to spend your life with twelve-year-olds?' 'Maybe I can help them. When I was twelve, you watched me. You had a notepad just for writing down what you noticed, remember? Maybe everyone needs that kind of attention at that age. I could get a notepad.' She considers him, the dimple deep in her cheek. He thinks, She's still carrying that notepad.

I thought of all the times I had insisted being with Travis was the wrong decision, and how much time I had wasted fighting my feelings for him. Looking across the table at his soft, brown eyes, and the dimple dancing in his cheek as he chewed, I couldn’t remember what I was so worried about.

Joseph handed me a neatly wrapped gift also in the metallic purple paper. “Diana wrapped it for you. She said my wrapping was an insult to humanity,” he said breaking out in a grin that made dimples appear in his cheeks.

You really do just barrel into situations without any regard for your own safety, don't you?' She grinned, displaying white, slightly overlapping teeth and the two dimples on her cheeks. 'I have my murderous goth to protect me.

It’s not goodbye, Sam. It’s see you in two days. I promise…” she said stroking his hair away from his dimpled cheek. “I’m counting on it. You will be missed,” he said as he put her hand on his chest near his heart. “You will be missed right here…

Of course, he had no idea what I’d been thinking minutes earlier, but the firm, rounded cheeks of the apricot with their dimple in the middle reminded me of how his body had stretched across the boughs of the tree with his tight, rounded ass echoing the color and the shape of the fruit. Touching the apricot was like touching him.

I'd lived for her smile and I would've done anything to make her laugh. It always made me feel like I'd accomplished something when that dimple appeared in her cheek. Things were different now, but that didn't mean that I couldn't help her out this once.

I thought about kissing you today and yesterday and the day before that. I know I’ll think about kissing you tomorrow and the day after that and some more days after those days. I think about kissing you slowly and tracing my fingers along your lips. I think about kissing you in your car, in the rain, on your doorstep. I think about kissing your dimple, your cheek, your spot. I think about kissing only you not anyone else just you.

He twisted his head to the side, grimacing only slightly. Then he smiled at her. The dimple in his cheek nearly undid all her hardearned control.

Being on that pitcher’s mound, it’s the one thing I’m really good at. The one thing I haven’t fucked up. And when I’m on the field, everything else fades away. You know?” He turned to look at me, his eyes craving understanding. I smiled and he continued. “It’s like my mind is clear when I’m out there. It’s not about my mom or my dad or the stupid shit I’ve done. It’s about me, the ball, and the batter. It’s the one place in the world where I feel like I’m in control. Like I have a say in what happens around me.” I stopped my head from nodding in agreement once I realized that I was doing it. “I feel that way when I’m taking pictures. Anything that I’m not seeing through my lens fades away in the background. And I get to frame my picture any way I choose. I get to dictate how it looks. What’s in it. What isn’t. Behind that lens I have complete control in how things are seen.” He smiled, his dimples indenting his cheeks. “You get it.

Cal was dressed in a Hex Hall uniform. The blazer was a little tight on his broad shoulders, more so when he shrugged. "It was mine.Mrs. Casnoff brought it with her. I don't really, uh, do costumes. Figured this was a good compromise." I'd thought no one but Archer could make that uniform look good, but Cal proved me wrong. The bright blue was nice against his tan skin and golden hair, and he looked younger. There was a dimple in his cheek as he smiled at me-something I'd never noticed before. "You make a good Hecate," he said. I would have snorted and made a sarcastic comment, but there was something in his eyes that made me just say, "Thanks.

Belly, this is Yolie. She’s my co-lifeguard.” Yolie reached over and shook my hand. It struck me as a businessy thing to do for someone in a bikini. She had a firm handshake, a nice grip, something my mother would have appreciated. “Hi Belly,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” “You have?” I looked up at Jeremiah. He smirked. “Yeah. I told her all about the way you snore so loud that I can hear you down the hall.” I smacked his foot. “Shut up.” Turning to Yolie, I said, “It’s nice to meet you.” She smiled at me. She had dimples in both cheeks and a crooked bottom tooth. “You too. Jere, do you want to take your break now?” “In a little bit,” he said. “Belly, go work on your sun damage.

She sipped her drink and the ends of her lips curled, stamped two dimples on her cheeks, and in her smile flashed the danger of momentum, of riding hard with no plan. But I didn't need a plan, only movement. Like the purest assassin, I was already dead.

As Cotton holds the door open for me, and our bodies grow closer, I notice how much older he is than me. At least eight years, I’d guess. Too old, and yet young enough for me to admire the single dimple in his left cheek — a sharp contrast to his angular face.

What’s your name?” The creature practically purred the question at her. His voice was low and smooth, completely unaccented. His nostrils flared slightly, as though inhaling her scent. “Um . . .” Mia swallowed nervously. “M-Mia.” “Mia,” he repeated slowly, seemingly savoring her name. “Mia what?” “Mia Stalis.” Oh crap, why did he want to know her name? Why was he here, talking to her? In general, what was he doing in Central Park, so far away from any of the K Centers? Breathe, Mia, breathe. “Relax, Mia Stalis.” His smile got wider, exposing a dimple in his left cheek. A dimple? Ks had dimples? “Have you never encountered one of us before?

She sounded like she was genuinely sorry, but there was something about her expression that always made you wonder if she was being completely sincere. I think it had something to do with the dimple in her left cheek. She almost couldn’t help looking mischievous.

After, Mam,' I say. 'What happens when you pass away?" I couldn't bear her being a ghost. Couldn't take her sitting in the kitchen, invisible. Couldn't take seeing Pop walk around her without touching her cheek, without bending to kiss her on her neck. 'It's like walking through a door, Jojo.' 'But you won't be no ghost, huh, Mam?' I have to ask even though I know the telling hurts her. Even though I feel like speaking's bringing her leaving closer. Death, a great mouth set to swallow. 'Can't say for sure. But I don't think so. I think that only happens when the dying's bad. Violent. The old folks always told me that when someone dies in a bad way, sometimes it's so awful even God can't bear to watch, and then half your spirit stays behind and wanders, wanting peace the way a thirsty man seeks water.' She frowns: two fishhooks dimpling down. 'That ain't my way.' 'That don't mean I won't be here, Jojo. I'll be on the other side of the door. With everybody else that's gone before. Your uncle Given, my mama and daddy, Pop's mama and daddy.' 'How?' 'Because we don't walk no straight lines. It's all happening at once. All of it. We all here at once. My mama and daddy and they mamas and daddies.' Mam looks to the wall, closes her eyes. 'My son.

Her smile turned to one of joy and something he could not quite define. “You really do love me.” “I do.” He couldn’t help but smile back at her, at the note of wonder in her voice as if she were the lucky one. His finger traced the small dimple in her cheek. “But I doubt you will ever be able to understand how much. My world was a very dark place before you came into it. I am at home in the darkness, and you will likely see traces of it still lingering in the years to come. Intrigues abound in Venice, and I will be vigilant about protecting you. There will likely be times when you see a side of me that is … unpleasant, although hopefully not as unpleasant as the day we encountered the mercenaries.

Let’s do something about that mouth of yours, hm?” The corners of my mouth lifted into a playful smile, causing dimples to appear on either side of my cheeks. I saw her amused expression change, slowly becoming redder as she visibly swallowed. She blushed. Anastasia Lenkov just fucking blushed.

When we finally met in the middle again, he said, “You are even more beautiful when you’re angry.” I shot him a dark look. “Don’t be absurd.” “I’m not,” Philip said. His eyes were still smoldering, and I sensed again that restrained passion within him that I had witnessed in the fencing room. “You should see yourself, with that flash of fire in your eyes. And when you press your lips together like that, a dimple appears in your left cheek, right next to your mouth. I find it . . . maddening.

Do you like my smile?” he asks, walking towards me.
 I kick off my heels, so that when he stands before me, I am suddenly much shorter than a moment ago. “It’s the best I’ve seen,” I say honestly. And, of course, he smiles at me. “You see these…” I reach up and touch his cheeks where dimples form when he’s happy, “…these are adorable. These…” I lightly touch his lips, “…well, I’d better not tell you what I’d like to do with these…” His smile widens. “And these…” I touch the edges of his eyes, “…they smile, too.

You’re breaking my heart.” At the sound of Rider’s voice, I wheeled around, clutching my bag to my side. First thing I noticed was the faded Ravens emblem stretched over his broad chest, and then I forced my eyes up. The slight scruff along his jaw was gone. Nothing but smooth skin today. No notebook. Hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, a familiar, crooked grin pulled at Rider’s lips, causing the dimple in his right cheek to pop. He stepped forward, and my heart did a backflip as he dipped his chin. I felt his warm breath on the side of my cheek as he spoke. “You didn’t respond to my text last night,” he said, and there was a light, teasing tone I didn’t remember from before. “I thought maybe you didn’t realize it was me, but that would mean someone else would be texting you good-night and calling you Mouse. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

My skin is soft and smooth and the color reminds me of rain-drenched earth. But it’s as if the darkness of it keeps Ma from noticing my assets: curly hair, a round face that makes babies smile, deep dimples in both cheeks, big eyes that notice details other people miss. I like my face, even if Ma doesn’t. I resemble Baba, and he’s got presence.

It wasn't just the way he always looked at her- with a mix of genuine joy and longing rolled into one- or his appearance, although he wasn't hard on the eyes with those rippling pectorals. She found herself drawn to those kind blue eyes and the hard line of his jaw, which moved when he was thinking. It was the dimples in his cheeks when he flashed her that magnetic smile, and the way his reddish blond hair had a single curl that was always falling in front of his eyes. But mostly it was that earnest nature of his, and his need to find the good in every situation, which was so different from how she viewed life, and gave her hope that the world could be more than she imagined it to be.

He had the kind of smile that inhabited every part of his face--his eyes, his cheeks; there was even a dimple.

Strike, with hand of fire, O weird musician, thy harp strung with Apollo's golden hair; fill the vast cathedral aisles with symphonies sweet and dim, deft toucher of the organ keys; blow, bugler, blow, until thy silver notes do touch and kiss the moonlit waves, and charm the lovers wandering 'mid the vine-clad hills. But know, your sweetest strains are discords all, compared with childhood's happy laugh—the laugh that fills the eyes with light and every heart with joy. O rippling river of laughter, thou art the blessed boundary line between the beasts and men; and every wayward wave of thine doth drown some fretful fiend of care. O Laughter, rose-lipped daughter of Joy, there are dimples enough in thy cheeks to catch and hold and glorify all the tears of grief.

P.S. I will give you a clue about the person I'm interested in. She gets a very cute dimple in her right cheek when she's trying not to smile. She has a very cute way of pronouncing th, and she wears a cute hat on cold days, which is like a French beret. I once had an appointment with her to Gaze into the Girl's Eyes, which she went and cancelled on me, and I've been waiting all term for a chance to Kiss the Girl.

watched him let the blanket fall to his waist and then fold his hands under his head. Once he appeared comfortable, he said, “But, just so you know, if you want my lips on any piece of you, I’m more than willing to appease you.” My mouth dropped open. “And my willingness to comply extends to my hands, my fingers, and my cock—” “Oh, my gods,” I cut him off. “You don’t have to worry about that. I will never request your…your services.” “Services?” He tipped his head toward me. “That sounds so dirty.” I ignored that comment. “You and I are never going to do anything like what we did before.” “Never?” “Never.” “Would you say it would be…impossible?” “Yes. It’s definitely impossible.” Hawke smiled then, and it was Hawke’s smile. Dimples appeared in both cheeks, and I hated the catch I felt in my chest upon seeing them. Loathed that it made me see him as Hawke. “But didn’t you just say nothing was impossible?” he all but purred. I stared down at him, at an absolute loss for words. “I want to stab you in the heart right now.” “I’m sure you do,” he replied, closing his eyes.

I had wanted to hate you that day. Believe me, I had. And then suddenly, staring at me incredulously, your extra half-tooth had blurted out aloud, ‘You get dimples on both cheeks!’ your immaculate lisp intact, on both the ‘s’es. I remember that second, the way your hair fell, the nankhatais on my tongue and the strains of Akhtar’s melody in the air. I had fallen in love with you then. I miss that second.’ ('Left from Dhakeshwari')

As a matter of fact it required only a tolerable show of virtue for Peter to win encomiums at any time. He would brush his curly mop of hair away from his forehead, lift his eyes, part his lips, showing a row of tiny white teeth; then a dimple would appear in each cheek and a seraphic expression (wholly at variance with the facts) would overspread the baby face, whereupon the beholder...would cry "Angel boy!" and kiss him. He was even kissed now, though he had done nothing at all but exist and be an enchanting personage, which is one of the injustices of a world where a large number of virtuous and well-behaved people go unkissed to their graves!

I’m glad...you texted.” Rider tilted his head to the side. “Yeah?” I nodded, probably a little too eagerly, but as the dimple in his right cheek took shape, it was like being rewarded. Our eyes met for a moment, and I didn’t want him to leave. An urge took me like it had during lunch, and I all but bounced forward. Gripping his arms, I stretched up and kissed his cheek. It was pretty much just a peck, so I figured it wasn’t crossing any lines, but the feel of his skin under my lips was still unnerving and unexpected. “Be careful,” I whispered, backing off. Rider’s grin faded from his handsome face. A moment passed before he spoke. “Always, Mouse.

It’s destiny; the stars have aligned perfectly to bring us together as friends. You cannot argue with what’s meant to be, once the stars have spoken, it is absolute,” he uttered, all smug and knowing. Shocked that he used the word destiny, I cocked my head and shot him a look—for the first time actually seeing Parker. He was pretty…too pretty to be a guy; streaky blond hair—as if each streak had been strategically placed—dark eyes, pale skin, and a charming smile that dimpled in one cheek. “Destiny has already found me, with a clearly marked path for my future,” I retorted. “Then you are doubly fortunate, to have it find you twice.” Parker smiled again, his eyes eerily piercing into mine. Parker and Danielle

What do you know about me, Isabeau?" He leaned forward, and I forced myself to stay still instead of shying away. He was so close that I could smell the subtle notes of his cologne: musk and wood with a hint of leather. What did he want me to say? That everyone said he was an ogre? Or that they all wanted to sleep with him anyway? "I..." "Go on. You won't hurt my feelings." He was still smiling, slight dimples visible in both cheeks. The sight was destracting, to say the least. "I know that you're the youngest CEO and partner in the company's history, and I know that you earned the spot by working your way up after graduate school instead of using your inheritance as a crutch." "Everyone knows that. What do you know about me? The real stuff. None of this press release bullshit." I looked down at my hands, anything not to have to look up at his face so close to me. "Um. People say... they say that you're scary. And that your assistants don't last long." He laughed, a deep, warm sound that seemed to fill up the office. I glanced up to see him smirking at me. I relaxed my grip on the desk a little. Maybe I wasn't being fired after all. "What else do they say?" Oh, God. He can't possibly want me to tell him everything. Does he? The look on his face confirmed that he did. It was clear by the way he looked at me that I wasn't leaving this office until I gave him exactly what he wanted. "They say. Um... They say that you're very, uh, good looking... and impossible to please." "Oh they do, do they?" He sat back, and tented his fingers beneath his chin. "Well, do you agree with them? Do you think I'm scary, handsome and woefully unsatisfied?" My mouth dropped open, and I quickly closed it with a snap. "Yes. I mean, no! I mean, I don't know..." He stood, then, and leaned in close, towering over me. "You were right the first time." Anxiety coursed through me, but I have to admit, being this close to him, smelling his scent and feeling the heat radiating off his body, it made me wonder what it would be like to be in his arms. To be his. To be owned by him... His face was almost touching mine when he whispered to me. "I am unsatisfied, Isabeau. I want you to be my new assistant. Will you do that for me? Will you be at my beck and call?" My breath left me as his words sunk in. When I finally regained it, I felt like I was trembling from head to toe. His beck and call. "Wh-what about your old assistant?" Mr. Drake leaned back again and took my chin in his hand, forcing my eyes to his. "What about her? I want you." His touch on my skin was electric. Are we still talking about business? "Yes, Mr. Drake." His thumb stroked my cheek for the briefest of moments, and then he released me, breathless, and wondering what I'd just agreed to.

Carlos began writing in his folder. “I have eight guys working with me and a project this size would take about eight weeks.” “Eight weeks?” she shot back. “That seems an awfully long time.” He raised his eyebrows and actually smiled. “Yes, but I guess a rookie like you wouldn’t know that.” This time it was she who frowned back. “Smart-ass,” she mumbled and decided to ignore the dimple in his right cheek. She shouldn’t have encouraged smiling. It was definitely not working in her favor. He didn’t look at all like the nice, safe fellow she had wished for.

He kisses my chin, caresses my throat. I close my eyes against what I see in his eyes. It’s so much more than the need to fuck, than the base urge of one alpha male compelled to take a woman from another of his species. It’s tender and sincere and all the things I’ve told myself all these years he wasn’t capable of. “I saw you first,” he whispers, kissing the bridge of my nose where my freckles are. “I had you first.” He kisses my face where the dimple dents my cheek when I smile. “I want you back,” he declares, meeting my eyes and taking my mouth in a deep kiss, never looking away.

I don’t want you involved in any of that.” “Because you care about me?” “Of course.” I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t want to worry about you getting hurt.” He stepped in and his other hand settled just above my hip. “Because you want to be with me?” “Yes.” That word was easy to speak. Rider smiled then and the right dimple appeared. “You want to be my girlfriend.” I opened my mouth and then I laughed. It sounded strange after the seriousness of our conversation, but the statement was sweet and silly. His cheeks pinked. “Not sure how I feel about that laugh,” he teased. “But I do love the sound of it.” My breath caught at the word. Love. Oh, gosh, was that what was happening here? “So do you? Want to be my girlfriend?” he asked, and then chuckled. “Probably should’ve brought this up before I kissed you, but I want...I want to see where this goes, Mallory. I feel like we got a second chance, you know? I’ve been thinking that since I sat down in speech and saw you sitting there. We have a second chance. And who gets second chances?” I searched his gaze, feeling a rightness deep in my chest. I had thought the same thing before, about second chances. “I don’t want to pass that up.

You'll want everything. You'll ache for things you can't have, and will never have. Impossible things, and improbable things, and stupid things, and evil things - you'll want them all." Jove smiled a little, his cheek dimpling. "But you'll also get things. Things you want. And...they'll make your life full, and they'll make it so you can keep going, and..." He shrugged. "They'll keep you warm." Otho wanted so badly to be warm again. He touched Jove's cheek, turning the other boy's head toward his. He leaned in slowly, as if asking for permission, and Jove closed the gap, his lips pressing to Otho's.

Do you? Do you know, do you understand, that I’m always going to want to pamper and please you? That making you come, seeing you blissed out and hearing you panting is like a drug for me?” My stomach twisted delightfully at the picture he painted even as my spine straightened at the use of the word drug. “I don’t want to be your drug.” “Too late.” He grinned, his glorious left dimple completely adorable, almost distracting me from my concern. “Can’t I just be your person?” I asked, my eyes flickering between his and the thought-derailing dimple on his left cheek. “Can’t you be both?” Abram slid his nose against mine, giving my lips a tender kiss. “Can’t I be both for you?

Logan looks up, registers my face and smiles immediately. I hold onto the back of a chair to steady my legs. Jeez, he’s got a nice smile; dimples appear in his chiseled cheeks and there is familiarity and warmth in his eyes. Real warmth, the likes of which I’ve not often seen. It suddenly strikes me that this man, whoever he might turn out to be, is genuine.

A trace of vertigo made her light headed, as if the ribbon of time had been snipped in two and then tied loosely back together. The stranger grinned, revealing at the center of both cheeks, a pair of dimples the size of small diamonds. How adorable! she thought, then promptly admonished herself for allowing so foolish and frivolous a sentiment. She didn’t even know who her odd guest was, or his rank and position.

let not thy sword skip one: Pity not honour'd age for his white beard; He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron; It is her habit only that is honest, Herself's a bawd: let not the virgin's cheek Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps, That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes, Are not within the leaf of pity writ, But set them down horrible traitors: spare not the babe, Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy; Think it a bastard, whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse: swear against objects; Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes; Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes, Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay soldiers: Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent, Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone.

What are you thinking about?” Jay asked as he plopped down next to her. She blinked, wondering if she was wearing her frustration on her face. “Nothing,” she lied, pushing her salad around her plate. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t just tell him. “Doesn’t look like nothing,” Jules interrupted from across the table. Violet cast a quick glare at her friend for inconveniently pointing out the obvious. “What?” Jay asked, nudging Violet with his shoulder. “Tell me.” Violet hesitated, suddenly embarrassed over her new insecurity. Yet, inside her head, she bitterly referred to Mike as “Jay’s boyfriend.” Ironically, though, it was Mike who saved Violet from having to confess those very thoughts, when he slid into an open space on the other side of the table. “What’d I miss?” His lazy smile reached all the way into his tawny-colored eyes, and even the dimples on his cheek made a fleeting appearance. Violet could see the draw for Chelsea; he was sort of stunning to look at. So then what was Jay’s excuse? She jokingly hoped it wasn’t the adorable dimple too.

Love isn’t easy, but it shouldn’t be this complicated. I hate the fact that I’m falling in love with him. I hate the fact that once this is over with, I will be just a memory to him, and he will live for thousands of years.” Sarah “Sarah deserves better; a human, not a ghoul who has all these problems. It’s pathetic to depend on magic to get rid of your demons.” Eric “Every time I am around Eric, I feel more acutely attracted to him. I don’t know if that’s part of his powers, but I don’t want him having that effect on me.” Sarah “Death affects us in so many ways. When you want to move on from the person you mourn, it feels like you are trying to forget about them.” Sarah “I miss Sarah’s laugh, the scent of her, the dimples in her cheeks, her drilling me with questions about everything, and I even miss her getting mad at me for trying to get her to try new stuff. I remember the first night we spent together when I made her jump off the cliff with me. I knew she was mine; I knew I wanted to bond with her. I just regret the fact I didn’t do it sooner.” Eric

Danny was unfazed at the size of the large-stomached man, with hairy arms waving about like a pizza chef, all violent gestures and shouting. His crude, pinch-faced wife spat salivated swear words at him. She was in her thirties and behaving like a grounded teenager, screaming at him to leave her property. "One hundred thousand pesetas please." Danny took a bony, female fist to his cheek, jarring him. He shook it off. "Two hundred thousand now." She jabbed at him again, as her fist poked towards his nose, he head-butted it. She recoiled in pain gasping and nursing her hand. The husband, a chubby, but solid Valencian, went ape-shit and lobbed a hairy, dimpled fist at him, causing Danny to shift on his feet. He pulled his head out of the way with the skill of a middleweight. The man drew his fist from three o'clock and blasted scarred knuckles towards his face again. Danny’s reaction was lightning; he caught the fist and held firm, flipped down the hood, his face showing something new. The man recoiled, recognising grim determination and knew this man would never give up.

What could you teach me?” Jamie asked, a dimple flashing in his right cheek next to his earring. “Do I need to learn a secret magician handshake? Do I need to learn to do finger wands?” Gerald burst out laughing. “I—” he said, and seemed somewhat at a loss. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Like a finger gun, but only magicians get to do it,” Jamie explained, grinning and shifting his schoolbag on one shoulder. He swished one finger in a dramatic circle, making a swooshing sound to accompany the gesture. “We don’t use wands,” said Gerald. “Don’t think that wasn’t a crushing blow for me.

I...I haven’t done a lot of this.” His cheeks flushed pink and my eyes widened. “I mean, I’ve done some stuff, but not a lot. I haven’t...had sex.” For the longest moment I couldn’t respond. All I could do was stare at him. “You’re a virgin?” One side of his lips kicked up. “Yeah. You sound surprised.” “I am. I thought... I don’t know. You were with...Paige. I just assumed you had sex before.” “That would be a negative,” he replied, picking up my hand. “You’re looking at me like you don’t understand how it’s possible.” He could really read minds. “It’s gotten close, but I just never— I haven’t wanted to go that far.” He shrugged a bare shoulder. “I haven’t done it, either,” I blurted out. “I mean, that’s super obvious since...you’re the first boy I’ve kissed, but yeah, I don’t even know...what I’m saying and I’m just going to shut up.” Rider chuckled. “Don’t. I love it when you ramble.” “Only you would enjoy that.” I curled my fingers through his. “Do you want to...go that far with me?” His lashes swept up and his eyes, with their greenish flecks, met mine. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Someday.” Warmth swept across my cheeks as I whispered, “I...I want that, too. Someday.” The dimple in his right cheek appeared. “Then we’re on the same page.

get away. “I love you, Michael Howard. I know you can already feel it, but I need to say it.” She tugged at his lips and he returned the favor. She tasted of peaches and cream. He wanted to kiss her cheek. Her chin. Her neck. Her chest. Every inch of her. Every dimple. Every hidden place he’d always wanted to explore. His tongue charged into her mouth. She opened to him, sliding hers across his, tasting it. Curling around it. Nipping at it. He wanted to take it slow, but his body betrayed him. He pressed into her, his hands squeezing at her hips. Now that he had a taste of her, he wanted all of her. Something crashed inside the Morgan house.

It’s destiny; the stars have aligned perfectly to bring us together as friends. You cannot argue with what’s meant to be, once the stars have spoken, it is absolute,” he uttered, all smug and knowing. Shocked that he used the word destiny, I cocked my head and shot him a look—for the first time actually seeing Parker. He was pretty…too pretty to be a guy; streaky blond hair—as if each streak had been strategically placed—dark eyes, pale skin, and a charming smile that dimpled in one cheek. “Destiny has already found me, with a clearly marked path for my future,” I retorted. “Then you are doubly fortunate, to have it find you twice.” Parker smiled again, his eyes eerily piercing into mine.

It’s destiny; the stars have aligned perfectly to bring us together as friends. You cannot argue with what’s meant to be, once the stars have spoken, it is absolute,” he uttered, all smug and knowing. Shocked that he used the word destiny, I cocked my head and shot him a look—for the first time actually seeing Parker. He was pretty…too pretty to be a guy; streaky blond hair—as if each streak had been strategically placed—dark eyes, pale skin, and a charming smile that dimpled in one cheek. “Destiny has already found me, with a clearly marked path for my future,” I retorted. “Then you are doubly fortunate, to have it find you twice.” Parker smiled again, his eyes eerily piercing into mine.

As she chats away, the candlelight is reflected in her pupils, making them shine like cats’ eyes. When she smiles, her nose crinkles and dimples appear in her cheeks. I look at her, stare at her, and I think: I wish I could pick you up and put you in my pocket. I wish I could carry you with me all the time, safe and warm. I wish there was a way I could be with you all the time, every hour of every day. Each time you smile, it’s like the first time all over again, and my heart flutters in my chest. I want to reach out and hold you – it’s like a physical ache. I want to stroke your face and kiss your eyelashes and feel your skin and smell your hair. I love you. I love you so much. And it hurts. I don’t know why.

In Cootamundra the station was quiet. Tina looked around but before she could see anyone she saw the poster on the wall. Lockie saw it too. It stopped him mid-stride. It was surrounded by For Sale notices and babysitting flyers.Over the months it could have become covered over as hope was lost but it hadn’t been. Right in the middle, with some clear space around it, was the colour poster of a blue-eyed boy. His head was covered in golden curls and he had a deep dimple on his right cheek. His face had been enlarged so that every freckle could be counted. He was Lachlan Williams and in this town they were still looking for him. He looked nothing like the pale, skinny boy Tina was with. Underneath the picture were the words - Missing:Lachlan Williams Aged 8 Disappeared from the Easter Show April 2010. If you have any information please contact...There were a whole lot of numbers and a website address. Lockie stared at the poster for a minute. He pushed his hood back down and ran his hand over his brush-cut blond hair. ‘What—’ Tina began. ‘He shaved it,’ said Lockie before she could complete the question. ‘Every few weeks, when it got longer, he would shave it again.’ His voice was two hundred years old.Tina saw her hand on the poker and felt a surge of triumph at what she had done. Some people just deserved to die. It wasn’t a nice thought but it was true. You couldn’t change someone who was fundamentally evil. Of everything Lockie must have suffered, and Tina could not even wrap her mind around what he must have gone through, the shaving of his head seemed somehow the worst. The uniform had changed who Lockie was. He was a golden boy with golden curls and the uniform had taken the gold from him. Lockie looked nothing like the poster. His face was all angles and his smile was lost. He hadn’t needed to conceal himself beneath a hood. No one would have recognised him anyway.

I didn’t know you would be here,” I say. “Well, what did you think I did at the Bureau? Just wandered around cracking jokes?” He smiles. “They found a good use for my Dauntless expertise. I’m part of the security team. So is George. We usually just handle compound security, but any time anyone wants to go to the fringe, I volunteer.” “Talking about me?” George, who was standing in the group by the doors. “Hi, Tris. I hope he’s not saying anything bad.” George puts his arm across Amar’s shoulders, and they grin at each other. George looks better than the last time I saw him, but grief leaves its mark on his expression, taking the crinkles out of the corners of his eyes when he smiles, taking the dimple from his cheek. “I was thinking we should give her a gun,” Amar says. He glances at me. “We don’t normally give potential future council members weapons, because they have no clue how to use them, but it’s pretty clear that you do.” “It’s really all right,” I say. “I don’t need--” “No, you’re probably a better shot than most of them,” George says. “We could use another Dauntless on board with us. Let me go get one.

Where are you from?" She asked without thinking. "I was born in the mountains." Runach said with a shrug. "The place doesn't matter." "Do you have siblings?" "Yes, several. Not all are still living. He smiled faintly. "You are full of questions this afternoon." "The library was a bad influence on me." Runach smiled briefly. "And I believe that was three questions you asked me, which leaves me with three of my own for you to answer." "That was two." "I don't count very well." "I think you count very well," she said grimly. He only smiled again. "I'll contemplate which answers I'll have and let you know." Aisling thought she just might be dreading them, but couldn't bring herself to say as much. "What was your home like?" she asked. "Another question." "You look distracted." He smiled and a dimple peeked out at her from his unscarred cheek. "You are more devious than I give you credit for being. I am keeping a tally, you know. I will expect a like number of answers from you." She stared at him for a moment or two. It was difficult not to, but he didnt seem to mind. "Why?" She asked finally. "Beacause you are a mystery." "And do you care for a mystery?" "I am obsessed by a good mystery," he said frankly. "More than enough to pry a few answers out of you, however I am able." "And what if I am not inclined to give them?" She asked, her mouth suddenly dry. "Then I will wonder about you silently." "In truth?" she asked, surprised. Runach smiled, looking just as surprised. "What else would I do? Beat the answers from you?" "I don't know." She said slowly. "I don't know what soldiers do." He shook his head. "Hedge all you like, if you like." "Your mother must have been a well-bred lady." She said, frowning. "Why do you say that?" "She seems to have taught you decent manners, for your being a mere soldier." "She tried," he agreed, looking out over the sea. Aisling turned and looked at him. "How long ago did you lose her?" Runach took a deep breath and dragged his hand through his hair, before he bowed his head and slid her a look. "That answer will cost you dearly." Her first instinct, as always, was to say nothing. But the truth was, she lived and breathed still. She could tell him perhaps a bit about herself, without bringing the curse down upon her head. Aisling took her own deep breath. "Very well." "My mother died twenty years ago, though I vow it feels like yesterday." "How did she die?" Runach was very still. "My father slew her and half my siblings. Time has done the rest of that terrible work I suppose. She shut her mouth, and put her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry." "I am too," he agreed. Runach shook his head, then reached for her hand to draw it through his arm. "Let's walk whilst you spew out the answers you owe me. You'll be more comfortable that way, I'm sure." "I'm not sure you should worry about my comfort" Aisling managed, "not after those questions." "But I do. And now that I have bared my soul, I think you should worry about my comfort and do the same.

Galveston?” he asked in that amazing voice, still surprising me by keeping our conversation going. “Yeah. Staying at a beach house and everything. Totally slumming it and having a miserable time, you know?” I gave him a real smile that time. Rip just raised his brows. “I promised her I would go visit, and she promised she would come up too... What’s that face for?” I surprised myself by laughing. “I don’t believe it either. I’ll get lucky if she comes once. I’m not that delusional.” I didn’t imagine the way his cheek twitched again, just a little, just enough to keep the smile on my face. “I’m stuck making my own lunches from now on. I have nobody to watch scary movies with who’s more dramatic than I am screaming at the scary parts. And my house is empty,” I told him, going on a roll. “Your lunches?” was what he picked up on. I wasn’t sure how much he’d had to drink that he was asking me so many questions, but I wasn’t going to complain. “I can’t cook to save my life, boss. I thought everyone knew. Baking is the only thing I can handle.” “You serious?” he asked in a surprised tone. I nodded. “For real?” “Yeah,” I confirmed. “I can’t even make rice in an Instant Pot. It’s either way too dry or it’s mush.” Oh. “An Instant Pot is—” “I know what it is,” he cut me off. It was my turn to make a face, but mine was an impressed one. He knew what an Instant Pot was but not a rom-com. Okay. “Sorry.” He didn’t react to me trying to tease him, instead he asked, “You can’t even make rice in that?” “Nope.” “You know there’s instructions online.” Was he messing with me now? I couldn’t help but watch him a little. How much had he drunk already? “Yeah, I know.” “And you still screw it up?” I blinked, soaking up Chatty Cathy over here like a plant that hadn’t seen the sun in too long. “I wouldn’t say I screw it up. It’s more like… you either need to chew a little more or a little less.” It was his turn to blink. “It’s a surprise. I like to keep people on their toes.” If I hadn’t been guessing that he’d had a couple drinks before, what he did next would have confirmed it. His left cheek twitched. Then his right one did too, and in the single blink of an eye, Lucas Ripley was smiling at me. Straight white teeth. That not-thin but not-full mouth dark pink and pulled up at the edges. He even had a dimple. Rip had a freaking dimple. And I wanted to touch it to make sure it was real. I couldn’t help but think it was just about the cutest thing I had ever seen, even though I had zero business thinking anything along those lines. But I was smart enough to know that I couldn’t say a single word to mention it; otherwise, it might never come out again. What I did trust myself to do was gulp down half of my Sprite before saying, “You can make rice, I’m guessing?” If he wanted to talk, we could talk. I was good at talking. “Uh-huh,” he replied, sounding almost cocky about it. All I could get myself to do in response was grin at him, and for another five seconds, his dimple—and his smile—responded to me.