Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Heather Crews

Quote by Heather Crews

Work

Girls Like You

Browse quotes and source details for this work. more

Author

Heather Crews

Browse famous quotes and profile details for Heather Crews. more

You May Also Like

“What I can't figure out is if you know you're a tease and are fuckin' with me or whether you really are innocent." "I'm not a tease." I cock an eyebrow, then look down at my upper thigh where she's parked her hand. She snatches it away. "Okay, I didn't mean to put my hand there. Well, I mean, not really. It just kinda . . . wh . . . what I mean to say is--" "I like it when you stutter," I say as I pull her down next to me and show her my own version of a Swedish massage until we're interrupted by Sierra and Doug.”

“Embarrassment flooded me, but Rider was grinning as he scooted closer and tugged me over. Before I knew what he was doing, he’d tucked my hips between his thighs and circled his arms around me, holding me tight to his chest. His really hard chest. The contact jolted me, like touching a live wire. It took a couple of seconds for me to relax. He was silent as he rested his chin on the top of my head, and I didn’t say anything as I squeezed my eyes shut against the rising tide of emotion. Being this close to him again was something so powerful the connection was tangible, a third entity. One hand drifted up my back, a slow slide under the weight of my hair. He curled his fingers around the nape of my neck. His chin moved, grazing my forehead, and the intimacy of the act was so different than any of the other times he’d been this close. An odd warmth settled in my muscles. Like stepping out into the sun for the first time after a long winter. There was a moment when I wasn’t sure if he breathed, because I didn’t feel his chest move under my hands. In the back of my head, I wondered how...how okay this was. I didn’t want to pull away and break the connection, but I thought that maybe I should. This was innocent. It had to be, but it was also different.”

“No way," Eve replied. "If you're going, go big." "Remind me to play poker with you later," Michael said. "I love a girl who'll go all in." She hip-bumped him. "That's what you want to do with me later? Dude. Respect the dress, at least." Michael trailed his pale fingers down her back, following the line of her spine, all the way to the red rose. Eve shivered, and her eyes went half-closed. Whatever Michael whispered in her ear, Claire thought it was probably way too personal to hear.”

“Just as we use speech and gestures to communicate, so we use touch. Words can say, ‘I love you’, but touch can also say how and how much, and, at the same time, ‘I respect you’, ‘I need you’, and ‘thank you’. For a long time, scientists somehow thought that touch served merely to emphasize a verbal message. But now it is clear even to them that touch can be the message, and that it can be more nuanced and sophisticated than either speech or gestures, and more economical to boot. What’s more, touch is a two-way street; and a person’s reaction to our touch can tell us much more than their words ever could. Finally, while words can lie, or be taken for granted, primal touch is difficult to either ignore or discount.”

“Plains watch the mountains and mountains watch the plains. Through looks, everything touches everything, even though they have many kilometers or even light years between them!”

“Yes, looking through the eyes of literature we may talk about the beauty of sadness! But in the eyes of truth, sadness is just saddening; there is no beauty there, only a touching desperation!”

“You...you always made everything sound like it’s not a big deal. You’re doing that now.” His lips continued to curve on the right and the dimple appeared. Then he sighed and scooted forward, spreading his legs. His hands suddenly landed on my hips, and I almost dropped the cotton ball at the unexpected contact. My breath caught as he lowered me so I was sitting on the edge of the coffee table and he kept moving forward, the inside of his legs sliding against the outside of mine. The rough material of his jeans touching my bare skin sent a raw, drenching rush of sensation through my veins. “That better?” he asked, peering at me through lowered lashes. I blinked, having no idea what he was talking about, and then I realized that seated like this, it was easier to reach him. His hands dropped from my hips to rest on his thighs, and they were oh so close to mine.”