What’s wrong is that every morning and every night, I lie in bed wondering why you’re not beside me.
~ K.a. Tucker
He said the truth is like that water: it doesn't matter how hard you try to bury it, it'll always find some way back to the surface. It's resilient.
There’s something different about him, and I don’t have to think hard to see it. Something about the way he takes over a room, the way he looks at me, like he has already identified and can disarm every one of my defense mechanisms with no effort, like he sees through them to the disaster lying beneath. And he wants it.
I walk away,I walk away from the voices,the shouts,the disappointment. I walk away from my deceptions,my mistakes,my regrets.I walk away from all that I am supposed to be and all I cannot be.For all of it is a lie.
Society is better off with me in a gym.
Do You think it matters if they're tiny or deep? he asked. Well, if they're not tiny breaths and they're not deep breaths, then they're just ... breaths. Then you're just breathing for the sake of ... breathing. ... Seize them. Feel them. Love them ...
Must have been some kind a nightmare.”“Yeah,” I answer, my usual calm, vacant voice returning. “Can’t wait to wake up.
No human can bury their past indefinitely. It’s only a matter of time before you crack.
He leans in closer and closer until his breath caresses my mouth. I’m paralyzed. I swear he’s going to kiss me. I swear I’m going to let him.
This man was once my salvation. Now, he will be my ruin.
There’s no getting better, Storm. This is it.” There’s no coming back from the dead.
What the hell do I have to do to get your attention? Do I need to get up there?” I throw an arm toward the stage. His eyes swell for just a second, in shock. He reaches forward to hold my hands, but he catches himself in time and instead folds them across his chest. “Believe me, you have my full attention.
I barrel into his arms, my mouth connecting with his. Seizing him. Feeling him. Loving him.
A part of me wants to spin around and slam the bottom of my heel into her head. In kick-boxing, we'd call that a Spinning Back Kick. Here, it's called, how to get my crazy jealous ass fired. There's no way I'd get a thumbs up from Cain on that part.
Because you´re not a one night girl Irish.' Leaning in to place a kiss on my jawline he whispers, 'You're my forever girl.
Because you’re not a one-night girl, Irish.” (...) “You’re my forever girl.
I could lay here and stare at him forever. I don’t want to let go. Ever.
