Flirty Quotes

I hate all those flirty-birty games that women make up. Life's too short. If you ever find a man you love, don't waste time hanging your head and simpering. Go right up to him and say, 'I love you. How about getting married?

Gods, I love it when you talk mathy to me.

I think of you only twice a day - when I am alone and when I am with someone else.

I always have many roads to travel, but I take the one which leads to you.

I would wear pink because I knew my future was anything but rosy. I would accessorize myself to the hilt, and I would wear flirty shoes because my world needed more beauty to counter all the ugliness in it. I would wear pink because I hated gray, I didn’t deserve white, and I was sick of black.

I didn't know whether to trust Alaska, and I'd certainly had enough of her unpredictability - cold one day, sweet the next; irresistibly flirty one moment, resistibly obnoxious the next. I preferred the Colonel: At least when he was cranky, he had a reason.

I have a question for you. "If your shadow is the second most beautiful thing in the world, which is the first?".

Pulling out my cell phone, I sent Daemon a quick text. "What R U doing?" He responded a few moments later. "With Andrew & Matthew, getting dinner. Want smthing?" I glanced at the bag, recalling how flirty the dress was. Feeling naughty, I texted him: "You." The response was lightning quick, and I laughed. "Really?" And then, "Of course, I alrdy knew that.

People don’t like love, they like that flittery flirty feeling. They don’t love love - love is sacrificial, love is ferocious, it’s not emotive. Our culture doesn’t love love, it loves the idea of love. It wants the emotion without paying anything for it.

Was that semi-colon some kind of flirty wink or just bad punctuation?

Do ever respond to a question without asking another question? Does it bother you? No. But it does confirm my hypothesis. What hypothesis? He let out a heavy sigh, and with it, all the residual warmth from our flirty banther evaporated. " You're a shrink," he said. He might as well have accused me of being a traitor or a murder or a Kardeshian.

He swallowed. “Have you no modesty?” Never in his life had he encountered a female so quick to be naked. Of course, he’d never in his life encountered a female who should so utterly be naked at any chance.

Wroth, darling,” she purred, smiling so sweetly. “I can’t wait for the next time I get to put my mouth on you.” In an instant the smile faded and she snapped her teeth and yanked her head back as if she was chewing something free.

He goes for stark versus accessorized, dark over bright, jewel tone instead of pastel, carnal over flirty.

i have never had anybody talk to me like this. this is not a flirty sixth-grade phone call or bantering with friends or words passed in a note. i feel that if my soul could talk it would talk like this.

But if you take off your clothes, I’m sure I can get them dry.” My eyes went wide. “Are you trying tog et my naked?” His silvery gaze met mine. “Do you really need me to answer that?” A hot, sweet flush stole across my cheeks. When he was like this—open, flirty, and downright sexy—I was at my lamest. I wasn’t used to this side of him. I don’t think I ever would be, and there was something thrilling in that. But I stared at him, caught between the images playing out in my head and the very real man standing before me.

Because she left him a MySpace message that was semi-flirty, and then today he was very vague about what he was doing. So I headed over to his house and waited outside until he left. And now he’s at McDonald’s, and I’m following him to see where else he’s going.” MySpace is seriously going to be responsible for everyone losing their minds.

I wonder if you know how special you are; I wonder if you know how precious you are; I wonder if you know how lucky I am to have you in my life; I love you so much.

There is no cosmetic to gain a beauty like yours.

I was kidding, Hazel Grace. I understand. ( But we both know that okay is a very flirty word. Okay is BURSTING with sensuality.)

You are a nice person, and you’re also full of anger. You’re a walking tangle of contradictions. That’s okay. Most of us are like that. Women, most of all. How could we not be? People want us to be sexy warriors who roll over and play dead on command. They want us to be flirty burlesque dancers in burkas, aggressive conquistadors with cookies in the oven, Dorothy Parker meets Dorothy Gale, Sandra Bernhard meets Sandra Dee, Kristen Stewart meets Martha Stewart.

There – that was the awkward 'I think you're lovely and I do hope we can be friends but, oh, by the way, please don't get flirty because I'm not really in the vagina business' bit over and done with

I thought of writing a summary about you, but when I finished it was a book.

Do you play video games, Liv?’ he asked congenially. ‘Uh, yes.’ ‘Well, stop cleaning up the dishes and come play with us,’ he teased. I chuckled. ‘Are you asking me on a playdate?’ As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. I wasn’t being flirty. I didn’t know how to be flirty! That was just my sense of humor, and now this guy was going to think I was coming on – Nate laughed, cutting me off. ‘Only because you got the Star Trek reference. Otherwise, girls aren’t allowed to play with us. They’re icky.’ Deadpan, I crossed my arms over my chest. ‘Well, boys are icky too.’ He grinned huge. ‘Ain’t that the truth.

Gender norms are disgusting. Why aren't boys allowed to fucking cry or show any emotion other than anger and possessiveness? It's almost like our society is designed to create sociopaths so they can oppress anyone who tries to say anything they don't agree with. Oh wait. And obviously women are supposed to be pretty but not overdone, and smart but not nerdy or unattractively intelligent, and good at chores but not a slave, and strong but not overbearing, and flirty without being a tease, and sexy without being a slut, and pure enough so that their man doesn't think they're a whore. Because obviously all girls want a man.

She’d come to the hospital. In his clothes. Did she realize tears were spilling down her cheeks and she was shaking, head to toe? No, she didn’t. Based on her flirty shoulder shrugs and attempts to wink, she thought she was playing it cool, and it made his chest burn. This girl. He’d be keeping her. There was no way around it.

If I have only one coin left in the world, I will buy a rose to propose to you.

With you as an inspiration, a painter will create his best painting, a writer will write his best literature and a poet will create his best poetry.

Cold one day, sweet the next; irresistibly flirty one moment, resistibly obnoxious the next.

The darkest hour of my day is the one in which I don't get to see you.

The sun was as flirty as Scarlett O'Hara with the Tarleton twins, breaking through the clouds in spectacular bursts that seemed like personal favors and then retreating for hours, days, and making us all ache for just a glimpse.

Gabby couldn't believe what he had just said. Her mouth gaped open and a flirty smile came over her. She slowly peeled her half wet white t-shirt over her head and then slowly shimmied out of her shorts. What had gotten into her? She had never acted like this before, but she suddenly felt playful, fun and daring. If he wanted to play, so could she.

Children have always liked the princess story, but they never knew what was her name. I think the princess was, is and will always be you.

I wasn't concerned, but I was thinking that the fastest way to get your mind off him and on me would be to tell you something truly appalling about him.

I am sure that God has given all his time in making you, the remaining human race has been created in haste.

The Earth must have done some noble work; that is why you were born here and not in the ocean among the fishes and not in the sky among the birds.

The flirty old moon eased his way across the warped and sooty floorboards and kissed my bare toes, turning my feet as luminous as the skin of cinema stars.

If sleep wasn't necessary, I would have used those 8 hours just to gaze at you.

Every time I see you, I have to admit that rest of us are more uglier than I thought.

You know the kind of smile I’m talkin’ about. That flirty, cute, bite-your-bottom lip ‘cause his smile is so stinkin’ perfect—that kind of smile.

Be flirty but not too flirty. Be confident but not aggressive. Be funny but in a low-key, quiet way. Eat cheeseburgers, but don’t get fat. Be chill, but don’t lose control.

If you’re going to start coming to my games, I better see Rhodes on your back and I’m not talking about my brother.”  “Is this some athlete kink you got? Need to see a girl in your jersey?” The old flirty side of me that I’ve kept hidden and locked down for the most part since Max came into my life is itching to break free.  I pop my shoulders. “I like to see pretty girls in my jersey. Like to take it off them too.”  Miller’s lips part, a shocked and satisfied grin lifting on the corners. “Well, with that kind of promise, I’ll be sure to wear it next time.

Oh, Neil!" Andrew wiggled his cigarette at Neil in greeting. "Hello." "Can we talk?" Neil asked. "Today's not a good day," Andrew said. "Try again tomorrow." "I wouldn't crash your birthday party if it wasn't important." Andrew grinned. "Sarcasm from Neil? Your repertoire of talents is ever-expanding." "Two minutes," Neil said. "So persistent.

Good dog! Nice fetch!" "He wasn't fetching." "Bring her here, boy. Good job!" The dog looked from Zack to me. "I've been training him," Zack said. "Up till now he's brought home only dead rabbits, but I guess he's finally getting the hang of it.

Unlike the last encounter, this cup of chocolate milk has a certain twinkle in his eye, a relaxed and suave nature that simply wasn’t there the first time around.  This universe is the same but different; a little more flirty, a little more exciting… a little more gay.

In material things, there are seven wonders; in human beings there is only one wonder - and that's you.

Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus. Where are Angels like you are from?

The air is full of flying kisses sent by the people who are watching you.

If you’re going to start coming to my games, I better see Rhodes on your back and I’m not talking about my brother.”  “Is this some athlete kink you got? Need to see a girl in your jersey?” The old flirty side of me that I’ve kept hidden and locked down for the most part since Max came into my life is itching to break free.

But had it been the wine? Maybe it was something else. I was no math expert, but this was an intoxicating equation: Hot Guy with Mysterious Past + Way With Pretty Words x Chivalry at Beach / His Aloofness at Coffee Shop (Immunity to My Face & Flirty Efforts) + Innuendo at Hardware Store x Honest Confession about OCD Struggles —> Curiosity + Arousal (Belly Flutters + Pulse Quickening)=ATTACKISS.

Well, I can hardly lick champagne off your dazzling personality, now can I?

With an evil, tempting wink that threatened to undo him, she added, "I'm the one you have to watch out for.

I think poverty is not the worst thing in the world, blindness is, because blind people cannot see your beauty.

Flirty touches and first kisses and hearts that turn out to be wrong.

This is dedicated to a flirty Gem from a grumpy Cap. He knows who he is.

No, that’s the thing. He was smug, cute, hot and completely flirty.” “Horrible. What a fucking bastard. What is he thinking, trying to be flirtatious with you? I’ll cut off his balls.

Are you saying I’m better than a sword to the eye?” I ask, and he chuckles. The sound is warm and soft, and I swear I can feel it, dancing over the knobs of my spine. Oh my god, this rain needs to end soon. “Maybe not better, but certainly not worse,

Joanna's quietly intent nature contrasted sharply with Holly's vibrancy. While Miss Brewster's flirtation stroked his ego, the spiritual maturity Miss Robbin's exhibited commanded his admiration and respect.

I am a mathematician and I can confidently say that the best figure ever produced is your phone number.

Cherry blossom lipstick applied to full, pouty lips to perfection, check. Smoky eyes, check. The hazel color does throw off the smoke effect, but they still look pretty darn good. Black curls flowing down white fleece in a flirty style, check. Kid with the hole in her head, check. Skinny jeans… hole in her head?!

Please don’t hug me. Please don’t hug me. But she did. And now Bram had two sets of black eyes glaring at him. Finally, he said out loud, “It’s not me! I swear!” Rhiannon laughed and leaned back from Bram. “So cute! Isn’t he cute, Bercelak?” “No.” “Bercelak’s only teasing.” “No, I’m not.

Don't be coy, Joshua. No matter how much money the other men here have, they can't buy what you've gotten for free.

The moon is too old, the flower is too old;even the sunset is not enough. The only relevant metaphor for you is your mirror image.

Hurry up, before there's no more night left.

Love is more than flirty feelings and fun dates. It's about what lives underneath the surface. The commitment you keep even when life gets hard and all the fuzzy feelings fade.

What are you doing eight states away from home, Mr. Noel Springs? What’s your story?” “Short version?” I couldn’t resist flirting, just a little. “Long. Short. Whatever ya got.

But we both know that okay is a very flirty word. Okay is BURSTING with sensuality.

Fearsome and flirty and full of bad jokes, an incorrigible sweet tooth and a steel-toe boot as a last resort.

Feeling fun and flirty, Id' swiped black mascara across my eyelids and under my eye, so it looked like I'd been punched in the face.

Late twenties, single, female. Do the math. Flirty flings were fabulous until you hit the big three-O, all downhill from there. Biological clocks started ticking like time bombs waiting to detonate, gravity exerted more force on your life than your mom, and suddenly, the dog-ugliest creep looked like Jake Gyllenhaal.

Is six a.m. too early to watch The Bachelor and mock all the giggly, desperate women?" "Go for it. Though I bet it'd work better as a drinking game," Laurel said. "One shot for the flirty arm touch. Chug if they strip and bum-rush the pool." Anne hit play. "Like they'd get their hair wet." Laurel stared at the screen, laughed at Anne's comments but felt another weird pang upset her insides. "Would you say this show makes something incredibly complex--you know, relationships--into something mind-numbingly vapid? Or does it make something actually rather simple into a big fucking circus?" "Both. That's why I love it." "I couldn't stand competing for a man like that," Laurel murmured. "I don't have the right...programming for it. Like to fight like that. Some people get an adrenaline rush and they're like foosh, give me somebody to beat down. I just, like curl up into a ball and want to hide." "I'm somewhere in the middle," Anne said. "I'm like a ninja. I'll like, come out of my shadowy hiding space and beat you down, bitches. You won't even see me.

Will you do me a favor?" Declan asked. If he looked at her with those dark, intoxicating eyes, she was likely to do anything he asked. "Maybe." "Any more dreams you have, no matter how small, will you tell me about them?" "Even the ones that star you?" The almost flirty quiestion slipped out before she could stop herself. A slow grin spread across his fallen-angel face. The man just looked as if he wanted to do wicked things -- and she'd let him. "Especially those.

I can’t do life without you, Piper Bellini. I’m tired of trying to.

I’ll see ya around.” He takes a step backwards and then another, looking handsome and too dang flirty for his own good. “Ya think?” I grin, trapping my lower lip between my teeth. He shrugs, taking another backwards step. “I do. We’re timeless.

You just want to see me naked,” Alec peeled off his shirt, then popped the buttons on his jeans and slid them low on his hips. “I’ve seen you naked. Or have you forgotten?” Alec winced when Grier probed the wound. “Oh yeah. What’d you think, by the way?” “The room was cold, so I won’t hold it against you.

Texting is not a real connection. Text-based relationships can bring a false sense of intimacy —the same way following your favorite blogger doesn’t mean you actually know him or her. It’s easy to feel exhilarated and even connected by rapid-fire, flirty text banter, but text chemistry doesn’t hold any weight offscreen. Too many settle for this emotionally addictive buzz in lieu of a real connection.

Karen: It was a man's world. The whole world was a man's world but the recording industry .... it wasn't easy. You had to get some guy's approval to do just about anything and it seemed there were two ways to go about it. You either acted like one of the boys, which is the way I had found. Or you acted real girlie and flirty and batted your eyelashes. They liked that. But Daisy, from the beginning, was sort of outside of all that. She was just sort of "Take me or leave me." Daisy: I didn't care if I was famous or not. I didn't care if I got to sing on your record or not. All I wanted to do was make something interesting and original and cool.

You need a minute? Or can we get on with it?” She tilted her head with a flirty grin. I wanted desperately to tell her I was so ready to get on with it: in my bed, on the floor, against the wall, in the shower. Definitely in the shower—rivulets of water streaming down her body, the curve of her breasts, the dip of her hips.

So, what do you go for in a girl?” He crows, lifting a lager to his lips Gestures where his mate sits Downs his glass “He prefers tits I prefer ass. What do you go for in a girl?” I don’t feel comfortable The air left the room a long time ago All eyes are on me Well, if you must know I want a girl who reads Yeah. Reads. I’m not trying to call you a chauvinist Cos I know you’re not alone in this but… I want a girl who reads Who needs the written word & uses the added vocabulary She gleans from novels and poetry To hold lively conversation In a range of social situations I want a girl who reads Who’s heart bleeds at the words of Graham Greene Or even Heat magazine Who’ll tie back her hair while reading Jane Eyre And goes cover to cover with each water stones three for two offer but I want a girl who doesn’t stop there I want a girl who reads Who feeds her addiction for fiction With unusual poems and plays That she hunts out in crooked bookshops for days and days and days She’ll sit addicted at breakfast, soaking up the back of the cornflakes box And the information she gets from what she reads makes her a total fox Cos she’s interesting & unique & her theories make me go weak at the knees I want a girl who reads A girl who’s eyes will analyze The menu over dinner Who’ll use what she learns to kick my ass in arguments so she always ends the winner But she’ll still be sweet and she’ll still be flirty Cos she loves the classics and the classics are dirty So late at night she’d always have me in a stupor As she paraphrases the raunchier moments from the works of Jilly Cooper See, some guys prefer asses Some prefer tits And I’m not saying that I don’t like those bits But what’s more important What supersedes Is a girl with passion, wit and dreams So I’d like a girl who reads.

There's no way you could last a sit-down with Luther. He'd end up exorcising you when you snapped." "It could be entertaining," Neil said. "It could be," Andrew allowed. "Let's all go," Neil said. "Aaron will agree for Nicky's sake and Nicky can see if his parents have come around. There's no way you'll let Kevin that far out of your sights, so take him with you. I'll tag along so you can harass me instead of Luther. Imagine how uncomfortable Nicky's parents will be if they have to contend with the five of us." "Or we could stay here." "Not as interesting," Neil said. "Appealing to my nonexistent attention span is a cheap trick," Andrew said. "But is it effective?" "You wish it was." "Please?" "I hate that word." "Does your shrink know you have a grudge against half of the English language?" Neil asked, but Andrew only grinned.

Who am I, Joshua? Name me.

You ever tried sixty-nine, Lola? I think you'd like it. You're a good multi-tasker.

If sleep wasn't necessary, I would have used those 8 hours to gaze at you.

We should get these wet clothes off," I say conscious now of the cold. A smile breaks over Colton's face. He raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?

Gretchen," Clint said, his voice full of the same luscious agony Gretchen felt building inside of her. "I'm going to kiss you." He was giving her one last chance to back out, to push him away. That was not going to happen. Her mouth twisted with amusement. "Not if I kiss you first.

You think I read your thoughts, but it's your eyes that speak to me. When they glisten with moisture, I see a depth of emotion stirring behind them. One tearful glance begs me for a reassuring embrace. When your gaze glazes over like a misty morning, I know I've lost you to personal cares. A sharp, narrow look will keep me at bay while a wink and twinkle and the flirty flutter of your dark eyelashes invite my company. The strength and duration of a stare gives your feelings towards me away. And when those wary eyes dart to avoid my notice, all of your hidden secrets are betrayed.

I know, Mamá. But I already told you—” “You’ll look like a … frog but in heels.” Gee, thanks, Mother. I chuckled and shook my head. “It doesn’t matter because I’m wearing the red dress.” A gasp came through the line. “Ay. Why didn’t you tell me this before? You let me talk for half an hour about all your other options.” “I told you as soon as it came up. You just—” “Well, I must have let myself get carried away, cariño.” I opened my mouth to confirm that, but she didn’t give me the chance. “Perfect,” she cut in. “That is such a beautiful dress, Lina. It’s classy and flirty.” Flirty? What was that supposed to mean? “Your boobs will be entering the banquet before you.” Oh … oh. So, that was what she meant. “But the color does really flatter your skin, body shape, and face. Not like the frog dress.” “Thanks,” I muttered. “I don’t think I’ll ever wear green again.

I'm sorry, I really did want to talk to you." His free hand went to her face and cupped her cheek. Something tightened pleasantly in her belly. "Just talk?" she breathed. He nodded, but used their clasped hands to pull her closer to him. She raised her head and met his eyes, a storm of blue and green. She smirked. "That's a shame.

Two people who share a secret no one else knows because no one else understands the way it is between us when our clothes are off and her breath is my breath and there are no more questions, just answers, and every single one is her name.

It’s… fine. There’s nothing you can do. But it’s nice to be around you. Like I haven’t lost a decade of my life.” And despite being a wreck himself after tonight’s events, Ros still flashed Shane a little smile and winked. “If it helps, I was eleven ten years ago, so we wouldn’t have been a match.

Where did Grizel go?” Sandor asked as they turned to leave. “She’s supposed to stay by your side.” “I’m right here,” a husky female voice said as a lithe gray goblin in a fitted black jumpsuit seemed to melt out of the shadows. Fitz’s bodyguard was just as tall as Sandor, but far leaner—and what she lacked in bulk she made up for in stealth and grace. “I swear,” she said, tapping Sandor on the nose. “It’s almost too easy to evade you.” “Anyone can hide in this chaos,” Sandor huffed. “And now is not the time for games!” “There’s always time for games.” Grizel tossed her long ponytail in a way that almost seemed . . . Was it flirty? Sandor must’ve noticed too, because his gray skin tinted pink. He cleared his throat and turned to Sophie. “Weren’t we heading to the cafeteria?” She nodded and followed Fitz into the mazelike halls, where the colorful crystal walls shimmered in the afternoon sunlight. The cafeteria was on the second floor of the campus’s five-story glass pyramid, which sat in the center of the courtyard framed by the U-shaped main building. Sophie spent most of the walk wondering how long it would take Dex to notice her new accessories. The answer was three seconds—and another after that to notice the matching rings on Fitz’s thumbs. His periwinkle eyes narrowed, but he kept his voice cheerful as he said, “I guess we’re all giving rings this year.” Biana held out her hand to show Sophie a ring that looked familiar—probably because Sophie had a less sparkly, slightly more crooked, definitely less pink version on her own finger. “I also made one for you,” Dex told Fitz. “It’s in your thinking cap. And I have some for Tam and Linh, whenever we see them again. That way we’ll all have panic switches—and I added stronger trackers, so I can home in on the signal even if you don’t press your stone. Just in case anything weird happens.” “Your Technopath tricks aren’t necessary,” Sandor told him, pointing to their group of bodyguards—four goblins in all. “But it’s still good to have a backup plan, right?” Biana asked, admiring her ring from another angle. The pink stone matched the glittery shadow she’d brushed around her teal eyes, as well as the gloss on her

Turning back, she nodded at the man, offering another smile as she passed. She suspected they’d passed him about a dozen times in the grocery store during their back and forth. He looked vaguely familiar, and his smile was almost flirty, which was something Anders had apparently noticed, if she were to judge by the scowl presently on his face. Goodness, Anders looked almost jealous, Valerie thought, her smile unintentionally widening as she passed the man, which made his smile widen appreciatively. The whole thing made her feel pretty darned good and she walked straight back to Anders, grinned, and went up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “Smile. Life is good,” she said lightly before moving to the passenger door. “Cheeky,” Anders muttered, opening it for her before she could. Grinning, Valerie stepped up into her seat. She reached for her seat belt, and then gave a start when Anders leaned in, his face suddenly in front of hers. “That wasn’t a kiss,” he informed her when she stared at him wide-eyed. “This is.

That’s when I decide that prom is stupid. It’s just a dumb dance that might have meant something to the old me, but the new me doesn’t really give a flying frick. And that’s when Mark Baker, whom I now refer to as Galen’s BFF because of their testosterone-enhanced run-in last year, walks up to me. “You got your dress picked out for prom? Let me guess. It’s violet, to match your eyes.” I raise a brow at him. Since Galen has been gone, Mark has been awfully attentive. Not that Mark isn’t nice, and not that if it were a year ago, I’d be a babbling idiot if he took the time out of being godlike to ask what I planned on wearing for prom. But like everything else, Mark is so one year ago. And I don’t know if I like that. I shrug. “I’m probably not going.” Mark is not good at hiding surprise. “You mean Galen won’t allow you to-“ “Knock it off. I know you think Galen is controlling or whatever, but you’re wrong. And anyways, I can hold my own. If I wanted to go to prom, you can bet your sweet Aspercreme I’d be going.” Mark holds up his hands in surrender. “Simmer down, skillet. I was just asking a polite question. Did you want to talk about starving children or government conspiracy instead?” I laugh. I’d forgotten how easygoing Mark is. “Sorry. I’m just in a bad mood I guess.” “You think?” I punch his arm, then feel guilty about how flirty it looks. “Well, nobody’s perfect.” The bell rings and he starts walking backward, away from me. “But some people who shall remain nameless are pretty close to it.” He winks, then faces the other direction.

I might be a shameless flirt, but at least I don't have a horrible temper. You should come tend to my wounds from our squabble in the snow. I'm bruised all over thanks to you. Something clicked against the nightstand, and a pen rolled across the polished mahogany. Hissing, I snatched it up and scribbed: Go lick your wounds and leave me be. The paper vanished. It was gone for a while- far longer than it should have taken to write the few words that appeared on the paper when it returned. I'd much rather you licked my wounds for me. My heart pounded, faster and faster, and a strange sort of rush went through my veins as I read the sentence again and again. A challenge. I clamped my lips shut to keep from smiling as I wrote, Lick you where exactly? The paper vanished before I'd even completed the final mark. His reply was a long time coming. Then, Wherever you want to lick me, Feyre. I'd like to start with "Everywhere," but I can choose, if necessary. I wrote back, Let's hope my licking is better than yours. I remember how horrible you were at it Under the Mountain. Lie. He'd licked away my tears when I'd been a moment away from shattering. He'd done it to keep me distracted- keep me angry. Because anger was better than feeling nothing; because anger and hatred were the long-lasting fuel in the endless dark of my despair. The same way that music had kept me from breaking. Lucien had come to patch me up a few times, but no one risked quite so much in keeping me not only alive, but as mentally intact as I could be considering the circumstances. Just as he'd been doing these past few weeks- taunting and teasing me to keep the hollowness at bay. Just as he was doing now. I was under duress, his next note read. If you want, I'd be more than happy to prove you wrong. I've been told I'm very, very good at licking. I clenched my knees together and wrote back, Good night. A heartbeat later, his note said, Try not to moan too loudly when you dream about me. I need my beauty rest. I got up, chucked the letter in the burbling fire, and gave it a vulgar gesture. I could have sworn laughter rumbled down the hall.

His eyes were shockingly blue in that suntanned face, his brief smile a dazzling flash of white. He was very handsome, his features strong and even, with faint, pale whisks of laugh lines radiating from the outer corners of his eyes. He seemed like someone who would be irreverent and amusing, but there was also something shrewd about him, something a bit flinty. As if he'd had his share of experience in the world, and had few illusions left. Somehow that made him even more attractive. He came to them without haste. A pleasant outdoors scent clung to him: sun and air, a dusty, sedgelike sweetness and a hint of smoke, as if he'd been standing near a peat fire. His eyes were the darkest blue she'd ever seen, the irises rimmed with black. It had been a long time since a man had looked at Phoebe like this, direct and interested, and the slightest bit flirty. The strangest feeling came over her, something that reminded her a little of the early days of her marriage to Henry... that shaky, embarrassing, inexplicable desire to press her body intimately against someone else's. Until now, she'd never felt it for anyone but her husband, and never anything like this fire-and-ice jolt of awareness.

His voice is lower than before when he says, "You're a vision." "She is, isn't she?" My heart skips a beat. The voice coming from over my shoulder is so cold I nearly shiver. Kai brushes my arm as he steps around me, facing the stunned boy still clutching me to him. "I'll be stealing her now," Kai says simply,... He feels too familiar. We fit together perfectly, pieces of a puzzle snapping into place. I shouldn't let myself relax into his touch. Shouldn't let the tension ease from my body when he holds me. But I can do nothing to stop it. Utterly and completely powerless. His palm is flat and firm against my exposed back, calluses brushing my flushed skin. "You looked like you needed saving," Kai says, and I catch a glimpse of his smirk before he spins me. "For once," I sigh, "I'm going to have to agree with you." "I'm sure I could think of other things we agree on." "Oh really? And what would those things be?" "That he was right," Kai says softly. "You are a vision. I'm sure we can both agree on that.

What are you smiling about?" Rider asked. Willow glanced at him and flushed. "That must have been some daydream you were having." If you only knew, Willow thought. "Come on, Freckles, it's time you get back to the ranch. I have work to do." His big work-roughened hand swallowed hers as he helped her to her feet. Against her will, her body responded to its warmth. She snatched her hand away, garnering a searching expression in his dark brown eyes. She quickly excused her reaction with a flirty smile. "I promised not to touch you, remember?" "Yes,but I dont't recall promising not to touch you." He wiggled his brows in a comical imitation of an evil villain in a bad play. She laughed and shook her head. "Help me mount Sugar before I decide to wipe that grin off your face." "And how do you propose to do that?" he asked, retrieving the horses and returning to he side. He bent down, cupped his hands, and boosted her into the mare's saddle. "You weren't planning on slapping my face again, I hope," he said, reaching for Sultan's reins. "Oh,no, nothing like that." She batted her lashes coquettishly, the affect intensified by the naughty twinkle in her eyes. "You better stop looking at me like that, or I'll have to follow Sultan's example and break down your door tonight." "I don't think Juan would be too happy about making me two new doors. It wasn't easy explaining what happened to the first one!

I wiped my face with my napkin. “What made you want to become an actor?” I was sure he was going to tell me something pompous like he was born to play the role. Or that he wanted to get all the woman. So I waited. “Me.” He bit his lip, but his eyes didn’t meet mine. “I got sick of failing and being told I would never amount to shit back home my entire life.” I rubbed the back of my neck. This wasn’t what I expected to hear. “I’ve fucked up royally and I have been fucked royally.” There was a tightness in his eyes, the emotion crawled up his entire body. “And no I don’t want your pity.” I fidgeted in my chair. I didn’t know what to say. “I understand.” Our eyes met, and for a split second Carter looked as if he was considering believing me. He blew out a noisy breath of air. “The fuck you do.

Goodness gracious, Benny, why on earth would you hide this beautiful head of hair all the time?" He looks down sheepishly, sending a couple of dark curls tumbling over his forehead. The top of his head is covered in a thick layer of them, shiny and perfectly tousled in spite of his best efforts to crush them in a structured fabric dome day in and day out. The sides are cut short, which makes it harder to tell that he's hiding anything this gorgeous under those caps of his. "Maybe I thought it'd be too much for you to handle. I didn't even own a hat before this summer," he jokes with a sideways smirk. I bring my hands up and thread them both through his curls slowly before grabbing hold and pulling his head back to mine. Brushing his lips with mine, I say, "On second thought, you might've been onto something.

Still dark. The Alpine hush is miles deep. The skylight over Holly’s bed is covered with snow, but now that the blizzard’s stopped I’m guessing the stars are out. I’d like to buy her a telescope. Could I send her one? From where? My body’s aching and floaty but my mind’s flicking through the last night and day, like a record collector flicking through a file of LPs. On the clock radio, a ghostly presenter named Antoine Tanguay is working through Nocturne Hour from three till four A.M. Like all the best DJs, Antoine Tanguay says almost nothing. I kiss Holly’s hair, but to my surprise she’s awake: “When did the wind die down?” “An hour ago. Like someone unplugged it.” “You’ve been awake a whole hour?” “My arm’s dead, but I didn’t want to disturb you.” “Idiot.” She lifts her body to tell me to slide out. I loop a long strand of her hair around my thumb and rub it on my lip. “I spoke out of turn last night. About your brother. Sorry.” “You’re forgiven.” She twangs my boxer shorts’ elastic. “Obviously. Maybe I needed to hear it.” I kiss her wound-up hair bundle, then uncoil it. “You wouldn’t have any ciggies left, perchance?” In the velvet dark, I see her smile: A blade of happiness slips between my ribs. “What?” “Use a word like ‘perchance’ in Gravesend, you’d get crucified on the Ebbsfleet roundabout for being a suspected Conservative voter. No cigarettes left, I’m ’fraid. I went out to buy some yesterday, but found a semiattractive stalker, who’d cleverly made himself homeless forty minutes before a whiteout, so I had to come back without any.” I trace her cheekbones. “Semiattractive? Cheeky moo.” She yawns an octave. “Hope we can dig a way out tomorrow.” “I hope we can’t. I like being snowed in with you.” “Yeah well, some of us have these job things. Günter’s expecting a full house. Flirty-flirty tourists want to party-party-party.” I bury my head in the crook of her bare shoulder. “No.” Her hand explores my shoulder blade. “No what?” “No, you can’t go to Le Croc tomorrow. Sorry. First, because now I’m your man, I forbid it.” Her sss-sss is a sort of laugh. “Second?” “Second, if you went, I’d have to gun down every male between twelve and ninety who dared speak to you, plus any lesbians too. That’s seventy-five percent of Le Croc’s clientele. Tomorrow’s headlines would all be BLOODBATH IN THE ALPS AND LAMB THE SLAUGHTERER, and the a vegetarian-pacifist type, I know you wouldn’t want any role in a massacre so you’d better shack up”—I kiss her nose, forehead, and temple—“with me all day.” She presses her ear to my ribs. “Have you heard your heart? It’s like Keith Moon in there. Seriously. Have I got off with a mutant?” The blanket’s slipped off her shoulder: I pull it back. We say nothing for a while. Antoine whispers in his radio studio, wherever it is, and plays John Cage’s In a Landscape. It unscrolls, meanderingly. “If time had a pause button,” I tell Holly Sykes, “I’d press it. Right”—I press a spot between her eyebrows and up a bit—“there. Now.” “But if you did that, the whole universe’d be frozen, even you, so you couldn’t press play to start time again. We’d be stuck forever.” I kiss her on the mouth and blood’s rushing everywhere. She murmurs, “You only value something if you know it’ll end.