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S Quotes

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“She couldn't help but be aware of the man at her side as he picked up books and read the descriptions on the back. He held one up with a man staring off into the distance, hands on hips. "What about this one?" Sloane wrinkled her nose. "Oh, you mean men's fiction? I've read it, but it's not really my thing." He lifted a brow. "Men's fiction?" "You know how they have women's fiction because it could only be of interest to women? The same thing happens with men. But they don't call it men's fiction. It's just fiction, because of course both men and women, and all genders alike, are always enthralled by whatever men are doing as they seek to find themselves and the true meaning of life." "Sexism, in literature, you mean." "Yes!”

“She couldn't help but grin at him. "It is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. Even more exciting than being abducted by you. "Galen and Rose got married that summer," she went on. "It was terribly romantic." She shrugged again. "Honestly? I'm having a hard time believing that it won't happen like that again. Galen will work some magic. We'll seal the gate and go home. Poppy and Daisy will have a beautiful wedding." Oliver got up from his chair and came over to the bed. He sank down beside her and put his arm around her waist. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "It will be alright," he told her "You shouldn't be afraid.”

“She couldn't help stealing a covert glance at the exposed part of his torso, the flesh so firm and tanned it appeared to have been cast in bronze. Lower down near his hip, the satiny brown skin merged into a line of ivory. The sight was so intriguing- and intimate- that she felt her stomach tighten pleasurably. Leaning over him as she was, she couldn't help breathing in the dusty, sweaty, sun-heated scent of him. A stunning urge seized her, to touch that brown-and-white borderline with her fingertip, trace a path across his body.”

“She couldn’t help the hope that kindled painfully in her chest. Couldn’t help the steps she took in the wrong direction—nearer to him. Greater than any pull of gravity upon a flier, more than her duty to Soladisa, stronger than the lure of Teras to sinners, he would always be the primary force compelling her. Alive or dead, boy or monster.”

“She couldn't or simply wouldn't understand why I wanted to sleep all the time, and she was always rubbing my nose in her moral high ground and telling me to 'face the music' about whatever bad habit I'd been stuck on at the time. The summer I started sleeping, Reva admonished me for 'squandering my bikini body.' 'Smoking kills.' 'You should get out more.' 'Are you getting enough protein in your diet?' Et cetera.”

“She couldn't see the homemade colored sprinkles, the tender yellow cake, or the pale pink frosting made with strawberry syrup enhanced with a little rosewater. Although our local strawberries weren't in season yet, I had conjured the aroma and taste of juicy berries warmed by the sun. I hoped this flavor would help the two old people return once more to their youth and the carefree feeling of a summer day.”

“She couldn’t take it anymore—she flung herself into Atlas’s arms and kissed him, over and over, and this time Atlas returned the kisses, returned them wildly and passionately, and it made Avery’s heart break because she knew deep down that he was kissing her good-bye. She clung tighter to him, pressing her body the whole length of his, trying to hold him so close that he could never leave, as if she might anchor him here through sheer force of will. She wished she could snatch each kiss from the air and tuck it away somewhere safe, because each kiss was one kiss closer to the final kiss of all.”

“She couldn't tell which was winning out - her utter devastation at Gabriel's lack of support, at the way he'd made her feel so monstrous, of the suspicion that she was monstrous; that is was somehow a dishonorable thing to look at Bridget the way she did, and tha tGabriel was right to have reacted with revulsion. She wanted to scrub it all out. She wanted to back everything she had said and go back to a time when she was still just the sister that Gabriel knew and loved, not this stranger he had looked at with such disappointment.”

“She couldn't believe what she did then. Before she could stop herself, she leaned up on tiptoes, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him on the mouth. Her lips brushed over his for the barest of seconds, but it was still a kiss, and when she came to her senses and dared to pull away and look at him, he had the most curious expression on his face. Brodick knew she regretted her sponatenity, but as he stared into her brilliant green eyes, he also knew, with a certainty that shook him to the core, that his life had just been irrevocably changed by this mere slip of a woman.”

“She couldn't take her eyes off the boxers. Mostly, she had a view of the back, but he turned halfway when he looked over. She commanded herself not to look at the front flap, which, of course, was exactly what she honed in on. He spit and put his mouth under the tap to get some water. All while just wearing underwear. All while she just stared at the crucial spot of the Action Pants.”

“She couldn't think of anyone else who remotely resembled him. He was complicated, almost contradictory in so many ways, yet simple, a strangely erotic combination. On the surface he was a country boy, home from war, and he probably saw himself in those terms. Yet there was so much more to him. Perhaps it was the poetry that made him different, or perhaps it was the values his father had instilled in him, growing up. Either way, he seemed to savor life more fully than others appeared to, and that was what had first attracted her to him.”

“She couldn’t have been more than twelve years old. In her hands was a sign that said RED-HEADS RULE! with a little crown painted in the corner and tiny stars everywhere. I knew I was the only redhead in the competition, and I noticed that her hair and mine were very nearly the same shade.”