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Quote by Sarah J. Maas

“I put my hand against his cheek, the first intimate touch we'd had all day. His skin was chilled, his eyes bleak as they slid to me. 'I don't walk away- not from you,' I swore quietly. His gaze softened. 'Feyre-”

Quote by Sarah J. Maas

Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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A Court of Mist and Fury

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Author

Sarah J. Maas
Sarah J. Maas

Sarah J. Maas is an American author known for her fantasy novels. Her works are celebrated for their rich imagination, complex characters, and gripping plots. Born on March 5, 1986, Maas has developed a passion for writing from a young age and has become a successful author in her own right. more

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“His eyes, pale as the glowing pool, pinned me to the spot. So much heat in them. Heat and need and a shadow of frustration, as though he didn't want to want me. His voice lowered, thick as hot cream. "Em, if you're naked in front of me, there's going to be touching." Yes, please. Now would be good. "Pretty presumptuous of you, honey pie." Lucian, the rat bastard, smiled, those hot eyes intent on my face. "Who said it had to be you I'm touching?" "What?" I could barely think. His nearness was making me light headed. "I'm not above taking matters into my own hand, if that's the only option." I pictured him handling all that... girth. The bottom dropped out of me. "Oh, well played----" Water ripped, and he was there, big body surrounding me, his mouth inches from mine. "To be clear," he murmured, "if you're naked in front of me, I'd rather touch you." He was so close, vividly present. Deliciously beautiful. My lids lowered, my lips parting with the need to feel his. I wanted. I wanted. Our legs brushed under the water, and a shiver danced up my thighs. Lucian grabbed the edge of the pool to brace himself, his arms bracketing me, which made it worse. Water droplets glinted on the dips and swells along his shoulders and arms, drawing my attention to the sheer strength of his body and how good it would feel to touch him.”

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Book:Make It Sweet
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“The fuck is this shit?" it says. "Can you bloody believe this shit?" "No, honey," I say. "This is absolutely ridiculous." "Aren't you pissed the fuck off?" "Someone really should do something about this." "Why don't we bloody do something about it?" "Yeah, why don't we?" I say. "But how." "Well, we find whatever prick is in charge and give the fucker a piece of our minds, of course."”

RealityTruthSexViolenceFree WillArtificial IntelligenceConspiracyDystopian FictionUneasePost Modern
Book:Motive Black
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“His hand beneath mine was warm, large enough where mine didn't cover nearly all of it, his skin soft and his bones hard ridges that tensed at the touch of my skin. What are you doing? I thought furiously at it. My lips opened to say sorry, and I went to pull my hand away, but before I could do either of those things, his hand flipped over, our palms meeting as he threaded his fingers through mine. It was like when I was a freshman in high school and held a boy's hand for the very first time. The touch of his skin on mine made me tingle all the way up my arm, and the way he squeezed my hand, reassuringly but also firmly, as if to say, this is the way I'd squeeze around your nipple or cup your ass to press you up against me.”

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Book:Best Served Hot
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“Where are you going?” He looked over his shoulder at me. “If I stay, you won’t get any sleep.” “Stay,” I said. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.” Lie—such an outright lie. He gave me a half smile that told me he knew it, too, but nestled down, tugging me into his arms. I wrapped an arm around his waist and rested my head in the hollow of his shoulder. He idly stroked my hair. I didn’t want to sleep—didn’t want to lose a minute with him—but an immense exhaustion was pulling me away from consciousness, until all I knew was the touch of his fingers in my hair and the sounds of his breathing.”

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Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“Say something.” I struggled to get the word out. “What?” “My name.” I wasn’t sure why he wanted me to say that, and I didn’t know how it would feel to say it again after all this time, but I drew in a deep breath. “Rider.” Another breath shuddered through me. “Rider Stark.” His throat worked and, for a heartbeat, neither of us moved as a steamy breeze tossed strands of hair across my face. Then he dropped his notebook to the pavement. I was surprised it didn’t burst into dust. His long-legged pace ate up the distance. One second there was several feet between us, and in the next breath he was right there in front of me. He was so much taller now. I barely reached his shoulders. And then his arms were around me. My heart exploded as those strong arms pulled me against his chest. There was a moment where I froze, and then my arms swept around his neck. I held on, squeezing my eyes shut as I inhaled the clean scent and the lingering trace of aftershave. This was him. His hugs were different now, stronger and tighter. He lifted me clear off my feet, one arm around my waist, the other hand buried deep in my hair, and my breasts were mushed against his surprisingly hard chest. Whoa. His hugs were most definitely different than they were when we were twelve. “Jesus, Mouse, you don’t even know...” His voice was gruff and thick as he set me back on my feet, but he didn’t let go. One arm stayed around my waist. His other hand fisted the ends of my hair. His chin grazed the top of my head as I slid my hands down his chest. “I never thought I’d see you again.” I rested my forehead between my hands, feeling his heart beat fast. I could hear people around us, and I imagined some were probably staring, but I didn’t care. Rider was warm and solid. Real. Alive.”

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Book:The Problem with Forever
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