Throw Caution To The Wind Quotes

Let me ask you another question, if I may,” Jake says. “Have you ever been in love?” “Yes. Sure, I have,” she answered defensively. “No. I mean really in love. The kind of love that makes you abandon all reason and throw caution to the wind. The kind of love that makes you trade logic for passion?

One must give himself completely to his art and not hold back. Throw caution to the wind. Embrace the muse. Make love to your art.

The idealists and visionaries, foolish enough to throw caution to the winds and express their ardor and faith in some supreme deed, have advanced mankind and have enriched the world.

No one goes around throwing caution to the wind unless the wind is blowing their way.

Never throw caution to the wind. It could whip back into your eyes and blind you.

throw caution to the wind and just do it

Holding on will not make something come back. In my experience, it actually pushes it farther away. You cannot go back and undo what’s done, my friends. You can only move forward. And if your deepest compulsions and instincts tell you that you’re meant to be with that person or doing that thing, you should let go and move forth and see how life takes you there. Clearly, things aren’t going according to your desired plan already, so why not throw caution to the wind and see where you end up.

Idealists foolish enough to throw caution to the winds have advanced mankind and have enriched the world.

You know the key to impulsivity is believing you are invincible. No one goes around throwing caution to the wind unless the wind is blowing their way.

You throw caution to the wind, it may blow you away.

Jen watched as Sally and Jacque's eyes got wider and wider. "Damn," Jen muttered under her breath just as strong arms came around her and she felt warm breath against her neck. "I believe this is our song," Decebel purred in her ear. Jen swore at any moment she was going to be a puddle on the floor and Jacque would have to sop her up with some Bounty paper towels. Why she thought specifically of Bounty paper towels, she had no idea. She was trying really hard to focus on anything but Decebel's warmth against her. To her complete mortification he began to move…with the beat. Sally and Jacque's jaws dropped. Jen mouthed, "Save me," to her two best friends, but evil traitors that they were, they both started dancing and completely ignored her plea. Oh, those two heifers are going down, she promised herself. After a few moments, Jen decided she could either look goofy standing stiff while Decebel danced or she could throw caution to the wind and bring it.

My head said one thing, while my heart said another. Angel vs. Devil time! Yes, that’s right. Grace’s angel says to laugh back and continue. Grace’s devil says to throw caution to the wind and be bold. Bold never comes!-Grace from Deception (Fey Court Trilogy) Book 1

Sometimes a man must throw caution to the wind.

Happiness, they say, is a decision, not just a feeling. And I have decided to get rip-roaringly drink and throw caution to the wind.

The binders hinted at the reasons past relationships had gone sour. SEEKING A 28- TO 34-YEAR-OLD WITH AN OPEN PERSONALITY WHO DOESN'T GAMBLE. SEEKING A CULTIVATED PERSON NOT ADDICTED TO WINE AND WOMEN. An occasional brave soul would throw caution to the winds: SEEKING A 35- TO 45-YEAR-OLD. THE REST IS UP TO DESTINY.

I briefly closed my eyes and imagined him in a Barbie minivan hoping to expel the way his masculinity made me want to strip down to nothing and throw caution to the wind.

It means I want you to stay and fight. Stay and risk it. Throw caution to the wind because you think I might be worth the time and effort to get to know me better

You and I, we throw caution to the wind! We swim to great depths! We face the sea!

There were days when his adventurous streak got the better of him and made him throw caution to the wind and commit some ungentlemanly act or another. Then Alice Jane would reprimand him and call him to repentance, her sweet voice tinged with the suffering of a loving parent: "John Henry, dearest, I am so very disappointed.

Ah, yes, the elusive right moment.” Matthew snorted. “It never comes, Diana. Sometimes we just have to throw caution to the wind and trust the people we love.

I stopped at a stop sign at the end of the street, and Margo said, "What the hell? Go go go go go," and I said, "Oh, right," because I had forgotten that I was throwing caution to the wind and everything.

You go to the craps table and play a couple of rounds. You keep losing at first, as does he, and you worry that this is sobering both of you. You know the key to impulsivity is believing you are invincible. No one goes around throwing caution to the wind unless the wind is blowing their way.

Sometimes in life, you have to throw caution to the wind. You have to take a chance on something that may not be a sure thing. This is what we call living. It isn't fair to tread through life calculating the repercussions of every move. Simply existing isn't for me anymore. I am going to take a risk. Take a chance.

I smile a forgiving smile. The real truth is that I was sneakier than my brother, and got caught less often. No front-line charges into enemy machine-gun nests for me, if they could be at all avoided. My own solitary acts of wickedness were devious and well concealed; it was only in partnership with my brother that I would throw caution to the winds.

with a dream ,we sailed on a peaceful journey throwing caution to the wind, like love travelling the senses, surrendered to a piece of blond moon

I wanted to throw caution and logic to the wind and join Apple,

Sometimes following God means throwing caution to the wind. Sometimes caution is a symptom of faithlessness.

Do you know the key to impulsivity is believing you are invisible. No one goes around throwing caution to the wind and Les. The wind is blowing their way.

No one goes around throwing caution to the wind, unless the wind is blowing their way.

My skin is on fire with every touch, every contact, and my body throbs with unfamiliar need. We’re dangerously close to throwing caution to the wind. Logan’s body pulses and trembles over and under me, and I know he’s feeling it too. I want to give into it, to go there with him. I want him to be my first, my last, my one and only. I want to give myself to him fully; heart, mind, body and soul, but I can’t. The acknowledgment assaults me with soul-shattering clarity.

The Bremen German literature conference was highly eventful. Pelletier, backed by Morini and Espinoza, went on the attack like Napoleon at Jena, assaulting the unsuspecting German Archimboldi scholars, and the downed flags of Pohl, Schwarz, and Borchmeyer were soon routed to the cafés and taverns of Bremen. The young German professors participating in the event were bewildered at first and then took the side of Pelletier and his friends, albeit cautiously. The audience, consisting mostly of university students who had traveled from Göttingen by train or in vans, was also won over by Pelletier’s fiery and uncompromising interpretations, throwing caution to the winds and enthusiastically yielding to the festive, Dionysian vision of ultimate carnival (or penultimate carnival) exegesis upheld by Pelletier and Espinoza.

Hey,” he said, his hand gently rubbing my back. I heard the diesel rattle of vehicles driving away from the scene. “Hey,” I replied, sitting up and looking at my watch. It was 5:00 A.M. “Are you okay?” “Yep,” he said. “We finally got it out.” Marlboro Man’s clothes were black. Heavy soot covered his drawn, exhausted face. “Can I go home now?” I said. I was only halfway kidding. And actually, I wasn’t kidding at all. “Sorry about that,” Marlboro Man said, still rubbing my back. “That was crazy.” He gave a half-chuckle and kissed my forehead. I didn’t know what to say. Driving back to his house, the pickup was quiet. My mind began to race, which is never good at five in the morning. And then, inexplicably, just as we reached the road to his house, I lost it. “So, why did you even take me there, anyway?” I said. “I mean, if I’m just going to ride in someone’s pickup, why even bring me along? It’s not like I was any help to anyone…” Marlboro Man glanced over at me. His eyes were tired. “So…did you want to operate one of the sprayers?” he asked, an unfamiliar edge to his voice. “No, I just…I mean…” I searched for the words. “I mean, that was just ridiculous! That was dangerous!” “Well, prairie fires are dangerous,” Marlboro Man answered. “But that’s life. Stuff like this happens.” I was cranky. The nap had done little to calm me down. “What happens? You just drive right into fires and throw caution to the wind? I mean, people could die out there. I could have died. You could have died! I mean, do you realize how crazy that was?” Marlboro Man looked straight ahead, rubbing his left eye and blinking. He looked exhausted. He looked spent. We arrived in his driveway just in time to see the eastern sun peeking over the horse barn. Marlboro Man stopped his pickup, put it into park, and said, still looking straight ahead, “I took you with me…because I thought you’d like to see a fire.” He turned off the pickup and opened his door. “And because I didn’t want to leave you here by yourself.” I didn’t say anything. We both exited the pickup, and Marlboro Man began walking toward his house. And then, still walking, he said it--words that chilled me to the bone. “I’ll see you later.” He didn’t even turn around. I stood there, not knowing what to say, though deep down I knew I wouldn’t have to. I knew that just as he’d always done anytime I’d ever been rendered speechless in his presence, he’d speak up, turn around, come to my rescue, hold me in his arms…and infuse love into my soul, as only he could do. He always swooped in to save me, and this time would be no different. But he didn’t turn around. He didn’t speak up. He simply walked toward the house, toward the door on his back porch--the same porch door where, hours earlier, he and I had stood in a complete fit of romance and lust, where the heat between us was but a foreshadowing of the fire waiting for us in that distant prairie.

scientists say that being fat can lead to dementia. I have decided, however, to throw caution to the winds and proceed with my all-cream-cake regime. It seems to me that the fatter I get, the fewer places I will go and so the less I will have to remember.

Do one more.  You’re really close.  Just throw caution to the wind and let the weight of your body do the work.  Scare yourself a little bit.  The worst that will happen is you’ll lose your grip, fall on the back of your head, and break your neck.” He was smiling as he said this.

If they had given in to passion, throwing caution to the wind,they would have lost everything.

Should I trust this man? I want to. I want to just throw caution to the wind and shout, Yes! Yes! Fix me! Please make me normal. However, a nagging negative feeling restrains me. I know that if I accept this offer, something terrible will happen. Something terrible always does.

the problem is that following your heart usually means chasing after whatever feels right at the moment whether or not it actually is right. It means throwing caution and conscience to the wind and pursuing your latest whims and desires regardless of what good logic and counsel are saying.

Jane represents a lot of you who are terribly determined to avoid risk. You stay with the pain you know and avoid the possibility of joys, for the pains they might bring with them. You whine about your predicament and unhappiness, but choose that predicament and unhappiness over throwing your preoccupation with caution to the wind. Life becomes even shorter when you don’t fill it. Separate Reasonable Negative Emotions from the

Throwing caution to the wind, leaping merrily into the unknown,onwards they plunge,into the voyage of matrimony.

Their kiss was gentle at first, and then she pressed him for more like she'd done before, but this time neither work nor pack members would intrude. His blood sizzled as he touched her lips with his tongue, but she hesitated to open up to him. He backed off just a little, unwilling to let it go. He felt the hesitation in her whole body - the desire there, but the concern too. Then, as if she was ready to throw caution to the wind, she parted her lips and touched her tongue to his. But there was nothing tentative about it.

believed in honour but in instinct too, in impulsiveness and defiance and throwing caution to the wind. She would never have wanted him to choose convention over the call of his own heart.

From this day forward, I will stop trying to be perfect. For better, for worse, I will throw caution to the wind. For richer, for poorer, I will say yes to every opportunity that comes my way. To have and to hold, from this day forth, I commit to my own happiness. This is my solemn vow. Forever and ever, Amen.

Akimov had decided to throw caution to the wind and host a blowout

You never just throw caution to the wind?” There was a time when that might have been true, but life had taught me a hard lesson there. “I’ve tried, but then I just freak out and try to gather up all the pieces of caution before they blow away.

Life isn't fair and nobody owes you anything, so you better get your ass out there and throw caution and expectations to the wind, live with joy and abandon, be bad, be good, and dance as hard as you can.

I needed to get out of this bed because if Knox woke up and gave me a sleepy-eyed stare, I’d throw caution to the wind and hop right back on that cock of his without another thought.

She was twenty-three and single, and she needed to get back in the game. The only way to do that was to throw caution to the wind and recalibrate her standards. Stop waiting for Mr. Right to show up on the back of a white horse. She would try her luck instead with Mr. Alt-Right in the back of a white limo.

Which is exactly why heartbreak is such a selfish thing. it makes you self- centered even if you weren't previously. Gives you license to throw caution to the wind and not in the good, reckless way by skydiving or asking to be kissed.

You know the key to impulsivity is believing you are invisible. No one goes around throwing caution to the wind unless the wind is blowing their way. - Evelyn Hugo

Easier said than done. I’ve never been that kind of person, thanks to my anxiety and chronic overthinking, so I’m not exactly one to roll with the punches and throw caution to the wind.

This is what they will write about me when I die, she had thought. And if they were sincere, they might also add this: Building her whole life around her husband and children, Ella lacked any survival techniques to help her cope with life’s hardships on her own. She was not the type to throw caution to the wind. Even changing her daily coffee brand was a major effort.

The truth is, taking a risk - and by risk I mean making a calculated, thought out decision to try something new or different, I'm not talking about throwing caution to the wind and doing something stupid on a whim - is about taking the pieces of yourself you value most and asking, "How can I grow this a little more, in a new way?" That might mean, as it did for me, going after an award so you are recognized in a secific industry and thus get more opportunity.

seize the moment, accept the challenge, take the leap, fly the coop, throw caution to the wind, live dangerously (“I get it,” Coz, her therapist, said), and take the fucking thing.

You never know- not truly- what it takes to make you discard caution until it's happening.

I shouldn’t have touched her, but the way Ro’s eyes burned into mine, wide and alive, I was ready to throw caution to the wind and take up cross-stitch if it meant I could touch her again.

Why’re you still here?” She yawned. “Go away. Jared will be here any moment, and I’ll be nothing but an unfortunate memory.” I should go. Pivot and leave. To my relief, I started doing just that. The echo of my footsteps bounced on the bare walls. I did not look back. Knew that if I caught a glimpse of her again, I’d make a mistake. This was for the best. It was time to cut my losses, admit my one mistake in my thirty-one years of life, and move on. My life would return to normal. Peaceful. Tidy. Noiseless. Unexpensive. My hand curled around the doorknob, about to push it open. “Hey, asshole.” I stopped but didn’t turn around. I refused to answer to the word. “What do you say—one last time for the road?” I glanced behind my shoulder, knowing I shouldn’t, and found my soon-to-be ex-wife propped on the hood of my Maybach, her dress hiked up her waist, revealing she’d worn no panties. Her bare pussy glistened, ready for me. A dare. I never shied away from those. Throwing caution to the wind (and the remaining few brain cells she hadn’t fried with her mindless conversation), I marched to her. When I reached the car, she lifted her hand to stop me, slapping her palm against my chest. “Not so fast.” It is going to be fast and a half, seeing as I’m about to come just from watching you like this. I arched an eyebrow. “Cold feet?” “Nah, low temperature is your thing. Don’t wanna steal your thunder. Either we go all the way, or we go nowhere at all. It’s all or nothing.” It infuriated me that each time I gave her a choice, she fabricated another. If I gave her an option, she swapped it with one of her creation. And now, on the heels of my ultimatum, she’d dished out her own. And like a doomed fool, I chose everything. I chose my downfall. We exploded together in a filthy, frustrated kiss full of tongue and teeth. She latched on to my neck, half-choking me, half-hugging me. I fumbled with the zipper of my suit pants, freeing my cock, which by this point gleamed with precum, so heavy and so hard it was uncomfortable to stand. My teeth grazed down her chin, trailing her throat before I did what I hadn’t done in five fucking years and pushed into her, all at once. Bare. My cock disappeared inside her, hitting a hot spot, squeezed to death by her muscles. Oh, fuck. My forehead fell against hers. A thin coat of sweat glued us together. Never in my life had anything felt quite so good. I wanted to evaporate into mist, seep into her, and never come back. I wanted to live, breathe, and exist inside my beautiful, maddening, conniving, infuriating curse of a wife. She was the one thing I never wanted and the only thing I craved. Worst, still, was the fact that I knew I couldn’t deny her a single thing she desired, be it a frock or piece of jewelry. Or, unfortunately, my heart on a platter, speared straight through with a skewer for her to devour. Still beating and as vibrant red as candied apples. I retreated, then slammed into her harder. Pulled and rushed back in. My fingers gripped her by the waist, pinning her down, wild with lust and desire. I drove into her in jerky, frenzied movements of a man starved for sex, fucking the ever-living shit out of her. Now that I’d officially filed a restraining order against my logic, I grabbed the front of her throat, sinking my teeth onto her lower lip. My spearmint breath skated over her face. The hood of the car warmed her thighs, still hot from the engine, jacking up the temperature between us even further. Small, desperate yelps fled her mouth. The only sounds in the cavernous space came from my grunts, our skin slapping together, and her tiny gasps of pleasure. The car rocked back and forth to the rhythm of my thrusts... (chapter 44)

and I have this compulsion, you know. Everything has to be finished, I can’t rest until everything’s done. And I didn’t want to think then, how I couldn’t do things because of my health. But I’m older now. And I don’t know if I should be cautious? Or throw caution to the wind. Maybe I missed my chance to be fearless. I’m too aware now, of how things can go wrong.

You tempt me with more than just your body.” His weight lowered, heavy and hot on hers, tongue swirling over her nipple and making her crazy. “You tempt me into thinking that forever is a possibility when I know it’s a lie we tell ourselves to feel better. You tempt me to throw caution to the wind and make you mine, Lizzie. Mine to kiss, mine to hold at night, mine to have ridiculous adventures with that only we find fun.

My twenties were pretty crap. My career was absolutely amazing; in fact, I don’t think my career will ever get better than it was in my late teens, early twenties. But as a person, you’re changing so much and you’re trying to figure stuff out. Some people go wild and have a great time and throw caution to the wind, and I was the complete opposite. I was very shy. It took me a lot of years to try and stop pleasing a lot of people and allow myself to have fun. It’s the difficult thing of getting out of your own head. To stop going, ‘Oh, there’s something I should be doing, there’s a way I should be behaving, I should be dressing….’ All of those shoulds, you can drown in them.

I moved closer to him. He did not back away, but stood entranced in the dark. I pulled him towards me. I heard his palpitating heart booming through the quiet night. Yet, I encountered no resistance. As I reached to unzip his jeans, his sinewy body trembled. His awkwardness was a sign of inexperience in the gutsy game of seduction, and I was eager to entice this callow Caucasian into my web of sensual delight.               Flashes of my Bahriji schooling rushed through my mind as my lips caressed the tautness of his comely mouth, teasing him open with my slithering tongue. Heartened by my gutsiness, his tension slowly melted to flames of sizzling arousal. I grabbed his wrist and led us deeper into the darken forest. Pinning him against a towering tree our twirling tongues coalesced wantonly. Our pent-up desires burst forth like torrid infernos, consuming our sanity to debaucherous lunacy. We tore at each other’s clothes, athirst to ravage our lusty lubriciousness within the stillness of this stifling forest. Fervent tongues caressed with yearning intimacy over, around and atop every desirous crevice of our fiery souls.               Our pulsating hardness drummed in capricious potency, demanding satisfaction within our forbidden orifices, where only sacred mystics dared to venture. Throwing caution to the wind, I suckled at his bulging protuberance. Beguiled by my prowess, he jabbed his bulbous rosiness down my craving throat while my pleasuring hand evoked a rhythmic carnality that had wooed mankind since the dawn of humanity.               The Caucasian unleashed his deliverance in a flourish of heaving crescendos. Jets of piquant liberation gushed down my yearning orifice, as I drank his nourishing fill with gusto.               Not much coaxing was needed to spew my abundance onto Jules’ athletic frame. My seething virility coated his musculature. We amalgamated in a passionate kiss before the instructor returned alone to camp. I stayed to gather myself, to cherish an end to a licentious evening with a closeted homosexual. He had spoken no words after our frenzied indulgence.               Little did I suspect a lurking snooper nearby when faint rustling sounds, muffled by the careening wind, tantalized the stillness of the night.

So, you put in a no-show for the turkey,” Sean said. “What’s up with that? You’re stateside, you’re not that far away….” “I have things to do here, Sean,” he said. “And I explained to Mother—I can’t leave Art and I can’t take him on a trip.” “So I heard. And that’s your only reason?” “What else?” “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, as if he did know what else. “Well then, you’ll be real happy to hear this—I’m bringing Mother to Virgin River for Thanksgiving.” Luke was dead silent for a moment. “What!” Luke nearly shouted into the phone. “Why the hell would you do that?” “Because you won’t come to Phoenix. And she’d like to see this property you’re working on. And the helper. And the girl.” “You aren’t doing this to me,” Luke said in a threatening tone. “Tell me you aren’t doing this to me!” “Yeah, since you can’t make it to Mom’s, we’re coming to you. I thought that would make you sooo happy,” he added with a chuckle in his voice. “Oh God,” he said. “I don’t have room for you. There’s not a hotel in town.” “You lying sack of shit. You have room. You have two extra bedrooms and six cabins you’ve been working on for three months. But if it turns out you’re telling the truth, there’s a motel in Fortuna that has some room. As long as Mom has the good bed in the house, clean sheets and no rats, everything will be fine.” “Good. You come,” Luke said. “And then I’m going to kill you.” “What’s the matter? You don’t want Mom to meet the girl? The helper?” “I’m going to tear your limbs off before you die!” But Sean laughed. “Mom and I will be there Tuesday afternoon. Buy a big turkey, huh?” Luke was paralyzed for a moment. Silent and brooding. He had lived a pretty wild life, excepting that couple of years with Felicia, when he’d been temporarily domesticated. He’d flown helicopters in combat and played it loose with the ladies, taking whatever was consensually offered. His bachelorhood was on the adventurous side. His brothers were exactly like him; maybe like their father before them, who hadn’t married until the age of thirty-two. Not exactly ancient, but for the generation before theirs, a little mature to begin a family of five sons. They were frisky Irish males. They all had taken on a lot: dared much, had no regrets, moved fast. But one thing none of them had ever done was have a woman who was not a wife in bed with them under the same roof with their mother. “I’m thirty-eight years old and I’ve been to war four times,” he said to himself, pacing in his small living room, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “This is my house and she is a guest. She can disapprove all she wants, work her rosary until she has blisters on her hands, but this is not up to her.” Okay, then she’ll tell everything, was his next thought. Every little thing about me from the time I was five, every young lady she’d had high hopes for, every indiscretion, my night in jail, my very naked fling with the high-school vice-principal’s daughter…. Everything from speeding tickets to romances. Because that’s the way the typical dysfunctional Irish family worked—they bartered in secrets. He could either behave the way his mother expected, which she considered proper and gentlemanly and he considered tight-assed and useless, or he could throw caution to the wind, do things his way, and explain all his mother’s stories to Shelby later.

Release the negative. Live and let die. Throw caution to the wind. Be the best you you can be. Have it your way. Because you’re worth it.

Sometimes in life, you have to throw caution to the wind. You have to take a chance on something that may not be a sure thing. This is what we call living. It isn't fair to tread through life calculating the repercussions of every move.

He was waiting, one strong hand outstretched. She had no idea what he was doing, or where he thought he was going. He was asking her to say “yes” without knowing. He was asking for that leap of faith Gwen had warned her about. For the second time in less than forty-eight hours, the man was asking her to throw all caution to the wind and leap with him, trusting that he wouldn’t let her fall.

TO THE WOMAN WHO IS SLOWLY FADING AWAY... To the woman who has lost her spark. To the woman whose get up and go, has well and truly gone. This is for you. This is to remind you, that you don’t have to be everything to everyone, every day. You didn’t sign up for that. Remember when you used to laugh? Sing? Throw caution to the wind? Remember when you used to forgive yourself more quickly for not always being perfect. You can get that back again. You really can. And that doesn’t have to mean letting people down or walking away. It just means being kinder to you, feeling brave enough to say no sometimes. Being brave enough to stop sometimes. And rest. It starts the moment you realise that you’re not quite who you used to be. Some of that is good, some of that is not. There are parts of you that need to be brought back. And if anyone in your life is not okay with that… they are not your people. Your people will be glad to see that spark starting to light up again. So, if you have been slowly fading away my friend, this is the time to start saying yes to things that bring you joy and no to things that don’t. It’s really pretty simple.

His fingers dug into her thighs. He'd never wanted to throw caution to the wind so bad in his life.

Selfless Nuts (The Sonnet) If someone wants to do harm they'll do harm, Whether they have nukes or sticks and stone. If someone wants to do good they'll do good, Whether they have a billion dollars or just one. Intention is the mother of all good deeds 'n bad, It has got nothing to do with having resources. With intention one bread can feed ten people, It cannot feed even one when there is no intent. A world that is run by greed stops for nobody, Who cares what such a world thinks as righteous! In such a world you gotta throw caution to the wind, And stand as pillar of service among the retards. Long enough snobbish retards have ruled the world! Now it is time for selfless nuts to take charge.

Just thinking about spending an uninterrupted hour with him makes the color rise in my cheeks, and Emma inquires, “Are you okay? You seem kind of…distracted.” Distracted. Well, that’s one way to put it. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, I fess up, “Kyle’s here. It’s our first night together.” “The cop who arrested you?” Emma suddenly looks much more cheerful as she quips, “Kinky, Jessalyn. Did he bring his handcuffs?

Charlie bent and peered into her car, smiling. “I can see you’re one of those tidy women who likes everything in its place.” Maddie’s chin tilted with that defiant little lift. “If you must know, I actually am. My car is one of the few places I throw caution to the wind.” Mitch studied her. Somehow, he didn’t quite believe that. He thought that the real Maddie was represented in that mess of a car. Hell, he should know: she’d managed to blow through his life like a tornado in less than twenty-four hours. But unlike her, he welcomed the chaos. After three years of mind-numbing monotony, it felt good to use his brain again and even better to feel the kick of excitement, the rush of challenge she presented. “I see,” Charlie said, resting his elbow on the top of her car. “Is there anything I can help you with?” Maddie shook her head. “Nope, just looking for money.” Charlie stepped back and walked up to Mitch while Maddie climbed into the driver’s seat on her hands and knees, oblivious to the taunting view her ass presented. Mitch said, in a dry tone, “Thanks a lot, asshole. I’d almost had her relaxed before you showed up.” “Is that what you were doing?” Charlie asked in a slow, amused drawl. “Relaxing her?” “I was working on it.” “That’s not all you were working on,” Charlie said. “What’s the plan?” “At this point, I’m winging it.” Maddie’s calf flexed as she contorted herself in an impossible position and she disappeared into the well of the passenger’s seat. “And to think,” Charlie said, “if she’d have stayed in her car, I would have been the one coming to her rescue.” “Fuck off,” Mitch said in his mildest voice, ignoring the kick of possession thumping insistently against his chest. He’d known Charlie since they were teenagers. Charlie knew all the right buttons to push and was looking for a reaction. Mitch wouldn’t be giving him one. Besides,

I’m surprised you’re here.” Her mouth curved upward. “I warned you I’d be joining you.” He ignored the heat that spread inside him at the sight of her smile. “That’s just it.” Her smile grew wider. “A politician who keeps his word—what a remarkable aberration in the species.” “How could I have forgotten that keen wit of yours?” he marveled. “Yeah, I’m full of surprises. Might want to remember that.” Then, throwing caution to the wind, he let his eyes roam slowly over her, lingering. She’d have to be blind not to see the hunger in them. Which she clearly wasn’t. She retreated a step. He followed, his longer legs closing the distance, until his body almost brushed hers. That cool composer of Lily’s was unraveling, no matter how hard she struggled to pretend otherwise. The signs were there, in the fine trembling of her limbs, in the flush that stole over her porcelain smooth cheeks. Fierce satisfaction filled Sean at her involuntary reaction. He dipped his head until his lips hovered, a soft whisper away. “Lily?” “Yes?” There was a husky catch to her voice. Sean’s fingers reached up and traced the rosy bloom on her cheek. Was it the sweet flush of desire that made her skin so soft? he wondered, his eyes and fingers memorizing every detail, every sensation. God, he’d die for a taste of her. But Sean denied himself the pleasure. He raised his head, putting distance between himself and his greatest temptation, and forced himself to lower his hand. At the loss of contact, Lily’s head jerked, as if coming out of a trance. Sean stepped back before she could flay him alive. “You’re looking a little pink, Lily. I’ve got some zinc oxide in my bag. I’d be happy to put some on you. Especially on those hard to reach places.” He gave her a casual smile and pulled his sunglasses from the breast pocket of his T-shirt, ignoring the violent thudding of his heart against the cotton fabric. His hands shook, too, racked with tremors of need. Somehow, he managed to settle his shades across the slightly crooked bridge of his nose, before shoving them deep into his pocket, out of sight. Damn Sean and his effect on me, Lily swore silently. He had only to bestow the paltriest of caresses and she nearly swooned. Even more galling was the fact that she was equally helpless before Sean’s verbal taunts. The thought of Sean’s hands, slick with lotion, gliding over her body in long, sweeping caresses had her pulse racing. Lily’s voice was filled with contempt—never mind that it was self-directed—as she spoke. “You know, you and John Granger should get to know each other. You could compare notes on really great pickup lines. By the way, Sean, your nose? Does it trouble you still? I hope so.

...throw caution to the wind, ignore the pleas of parents, coaches, spouses, and bosses to be 'realistic.' Realistic people do not accomplish extraordinary things...

Surely he could lose his job or get in trouble for making out with one of his employees, but I think he should just throw caution to the wind!

Sometimes, and I guess it’s a bit rare, you do find that one person who makes the idea of being in a relationship sound so damn easy you can’t explain the emotion of it. You wake up in the morning thinking how can I make them smile in such a way they refuse to think of anything else but you. And each day, saying good night is truly the last thing you wanna do or even could do. You forget all about being timid, you throw caution to the wind, and you hope that the decision to love them is more than just your imagination. Everything with them fits—everything. Their smile is a song to you. Their laughter is the music. You watch their chest to see if your breathing is in sync because I deduct that’s what love is—rhythm.

I’m not moving in with you, Mikhail.” The idea was scary. She was a very private person, needing large amounts of time alone. He was the most overwhelming being she had ever encountered. How would she ever be able to sort things out with him so near all the time? His eyebrows shot up. “No? You accepted our ways. We went through the required ritual. In my eyes, the eyes of my people, you are my lifemate, my woman. My wife. Is it the way of the American women to live apart from their husbands?” There was that infuriating trace of mocking male amusement in his voice, the note that always made her want to throw something at him. She had an idea he was laughing at her secretly, amused by her caution. “We aren’t married,” she said decisively. It was difficult to ignore the way her heart leapt with joy at his words. Tendrils of fog drifted into the forest, winding around thick tree trunks, spreading out to hover a few feet from the ground. The effect was eerie, but beautiful. “In the eyes of my people, in the eyes of God, we are.” There was an implacable resolve, a my-word-is-law, in his voice that set her teeth on edge. “What about in my eyes, Mikhail?

The sort of face that makes strangers take me into their confidence and throw caution and discretion to the wind by exposing me to the excruciatingly embarrassing details of their private affairs.

Emotions can warp reality; when faced with the unknown, it's easy to throw caution to the wind and give in to your desires.

Vane snorts and smoke comes out his nose. “Such a filthy mouth, Darling.” “I don’t like it when you call me that.” He looks up, his violet eye bright, rising to the challenge in my voice. “Why?” “Because calling me Win is something the rest of them don’t.” “You want us to be special, do you, Darling?” Clearly I’ve made a calculated mistake. Because now he knows he can use it against me, to put me in my place. Throwing all caution to the wind, I close the space between us and climb on his lap, straddling him. He exhales, his hand automatically going to the curve of my ass, even though he’s scowling like I’m inconveniencing him. “Like it or not, we share the shadow, so yes, we are special.” As far as anyone can tell, we’re the first to share a shadow. We’re on unprecedented ground.

Throwing caution to the wind for just one night to get some much-needed vitamin D had led to an alcohol-induced pregnancy in the back seat of a vehicle.