Quotes & Sayings About Crossed Legs

Who the fuck is the Sandman?" Still ludicrous. A fairy tale.
Mirren crossed her legs and shifted in her seat. Elvis winked at him from her breasts. "It's not like I've met Him. My father never invited Him over to dinner. He's
" she took a deep breath and did a lazy little wave of her hand, as if searching for the right words "
the power that dominates Darkside. Pure creation. — Erin Kellison

Vince didn't seem impressed, more like bored. He uncrossed then re-crossed his legs so tightly, he either had to take a piss, or he'd been cursed with balls the size of grapes and a dick like a gherkin. It just wasn't normal for a guy to do that. — J.C. Isabella

She was quite a doll. She wore a white belted raincoat, no hat, a well-cherished head of platinum hair, booties to match the raincoat, a folding plastic umbrella, a pair of blue-gray eyes that looked at me as if I had said a dirty word. I helped her off with her raincoat. She smelled very nice. She had a pair of legs - so far as I could determine - that were not painful to look at. She wore night sheer stockings. I stared at them rather intently, especially when she crossed her legs and held out a cigarette to be lighted — Raymond Chandler

Daddy said you're a flat-chested old maid who probably sleeps with your legs crossed. — Patricia Watters

Poor manners on my part. What is your name?"
"Ria."
"Ria, is that short for Rian?"
"Yes, it is," she smiled.
"Rian, would you please cross your legs?"
The request was made with such an earnest tone that not even a titter escaped the class. Looking puzzled, Rian crossed her legs.
"Now that the gates of hell are closed," Hemme said in his normal rougher tones. "We can begin. — Patrick Rothfuss

She crossed her legs and kicked out her feet, clad in thick wool socks and boots big enough to house a little old lady. — Drew Magary

One morning there was newly fallen snow in the mountains. It lay halfway down them, and a raw cold, naked and biting, set in from above. It arrived in the night and dug its claws into Alberta, gripping her from behind between her shoulder blades and buckling her tightly into the old enforced position with her legs drawn up and her arms crossed over her breast, keeping her awake for hours. Now she wrapped herself in a nightgown again, shivering and quaking, with the prospect of her own greyish-violet winter face in the mirror. — Cora Sandel

I stop dead in my tracks when I see Nash leaning against the wall right outside the ladies' room. His legs are crossed casually at the ankle, as his arms are crossed casually over his chest. His smile is faint. And sad.
Finally, he straightens and steps toward me. He doesn't stop until he is mere inches from me, forcing me to tilt my face up just to maintain eye contact.
He brushes his thumb over the ridge of my cheekbone at the corner of my eye. I wonder briefly if I missed a streak of mascara.
"I'm so sorry," he whispers, closing his eyes as if in pain. His face is etched with regret and it tugs at my heart.
"Don't be. You can't control other people. I just hope I haven't embarrassed you too badly, or ruined any important business connections you were hoping to make."
"I don't care about business connections. Not at this cost. — M. Leighton

The hallway beyond was filled with males of the house, the Brothers and other fighters and Manny sitting on the floor with their backs to the bare walls, their legs stretched out, propped up, crossed at the knees or crossed at the ankles.
Apparently there had been quite a bit of drinking going on, bottles of vodka and whiskey littered around them, glasses in hands or on thighs.
"This is NOT as pathetic as it looks," her Butch pointed out.
"Liar," V muttered, "It so fucking is. I think I'm going to start knitting for reals. — J.R. Ward

The door of the bar opened, showing him a momentary oblong of true daylight, blankly white. A woman entered. He couldn't see her face as she crossed to the bar in front of the window, but he could see, drawn with exactitude by the light behind her, her legs within a summery white dress. When young he had supposed, without giving it much thought, that women didn't realize that sun behind them revealed them in this way; now he supposes that of course they must, and thinks about it. ("Novelty") — John Crowley

Sweet Lord of penises, his voice is sexy," Sid sighs over the phone.
"Jealous of what?" I pull the phone away from my mouth and tilt my head.
"I only want to hear 'oh my God' when it's followed by my name and you coming around my cock." His tongue flicks the lobe of my ear.
I shiver and tighten my crossed legs.
"That's it. I'm ruined," Sid cries dramatically. "No man will ever live up to this."
"Both of you stop." My words are breathy and it takes all my strength to lean away from his mouth. — Sadie Grubor

Following are the most common reasons for shortened muscles and trigger points: Stress Bad posture Static load Sitting (general inactivity) Sleeping for an extended time in an uncomfortable position Repeated movements (especially above the head) Training with poor technique Sitting with crossed legs Habitually carrying a bag on the same shoulder Feeling cold — Kristian Berg

He lay on the bed, freshly shaven and washed, legs crossed at the ankles and arms propped behind his head. His posture said, Yes, ladies. I truly am this handsome. And I don't even have to try. — Tessa Dare

The Story of the Rabbit and the Eggplant
Once there was a race between a rabbit and an eggplant. Now, the eggplant, as you know, is a member of the vegetable kingdom, and the rabbit is a very fast animal.
Everybody bet lots of money on the eggplant, thinking that if a vegetable challenges a live animal with four legs to a race, then it must be that the vegetable knows something.
People expected the eggplant to win the race by some clever trick of philosophy. The race was started, and there was a lot of cheering. The rabbit streaked out of sight.
The eggplant just sat there at the starting line. Everybody knew that in some surprising way the eggplant would wind up winning the race.
Nothing of the sort happened. Eventually, the rabbit crossed the finish line and the eggplant hadn't moved an inch.
The spectators ate the eggplant.
Moral: Never bet on an eggplant. — Daniel Pinkwater

Pemphredo had been about to crawl off, but at that she came back and settled down, brushing off her filthy shorts. Deino crossed her legs. Enyo stopped picking at her fingernails with a knife and put it politely away. I kind of felt like I should be serving tea. — Karen Chance

Such injunctions were burned into us, for Mommy felt strongly about proper behavior; about sitting with a straight back, knees together, legs crossed at the ankle; about walking with shoulders back, head high. 'A person meeting you for the first time judges you by how you walk, how you spreak, and how you're dressed,' she told us. On our Sunday excursions to Asbury Park, she would watch for an example . . . 'See that?' she's say. 'I don't know that man from Adam, but I can tell from his walk he's stupid, dumb, a no account.' Then she'd point to another man. 'I don't know him either, but that's an educated person. His back's straight, he's walking straight, not slumping and slouching and oozing along'. — Yvonne S. Thornton

I will say one thing about those males, there is never a dull moment." Peri suddenly appeared causing everyone to jump.
"Bloody hell," Jen barked.
"Couldn't you send out some sort of signal that you're about to appear out of thin air?" Lilly asked.
"What do you expect me to do ... fart just before I appear so the smell alerts you?" Peri took a seat next to Alina and crossed her legs, appearing regal despite her crude words.
"Why do you say we would be alerted by the smell, rather than the sound?" Sally asked.
Peri smiled. "I think you humans call them silent but deadly. — Quinn Loftis

I sank down onto the bed against the headboard and leaned back. I crossed my legs underneath me. "Then we'll talk." I said with a smile. Rush sat down onto the bed and leaned back against the wall. A deep chuckle came from his chest and I watched as a real smile broke out on his face. "I can't believe I just begged a female to sit and talk to me." In all honesty, I couldn't either. — Abbi Glines

Do you understand any of this?" he said, pointing to the lines and symbols that covered the massive screens.
"Some people understand the value of an education."
Hale stretched and crossed his legs, the settled his arm around Kat's shoulders.
"That's sweet, Kat. Maybe later I'll buy you a university. And an ice cream."
"I'd settle for the ice cream."
"Deal. — Ally Carter

Whatever her name was, she was pretty. She had a thick, careless braid of chestnut hair, a quick smile, and dark, merry eyes. She wore some kind of a fuzzy lavender pullover, and when she crossed her legs and lifted her guitar onto her lap, she had an interesting way of tucking the foot of the bottom leg back under her chair that made Hector feel melty. He looked away in self-preservation. — Lynne Rae Perkins

Fear These incredible bodies called to them, but the Nivakle men dared not enter. They had seen the women eat: they swallowed the flesh of fish with the upper mouth, but chewed it first with the lower mouth. Between their legs they had teeth. So the men lit bonfires, called to the women, and sang and danced for them. The women sat around in a circle with their legs crossed. The men danced all through the night. They undulated, turned, and flew like smoke and birds. When dawn came they fell fainting to the ground. The women gently lifted them and gave them water to drink. Where they had been sitting, the ground was all littered with teeth. (192) — Eduardo Galeano

Good," Brigida said with a nod. "Now, you'll need one of Arranz's kin to accompany you. Take that one with you." She motioned to Addolgar. "And the one with the thick neck over there."
Ghleanna's hand went to her throat. "Me neck isn't thick."
"Thick like a tree trunk," Brigida muttered.
"It's graceful. This neck is long and graceful." Powerful legs landed on the table and Ghleanna crossed her arms over her chest. "Graceful," she growled, appearing to fight an instinct to yell.
Addolgar shrugged at Braith. "Me sister's graceful."
"Yes," Braith replied, her eyes briefly crossing. "I can see that. — G.A. Aiken

So this is the young man who has intentions toward my little girl." Bobby shifted in his seat and crossed his legs. "It is not fun on this side of the table, is it, Robert?" Uncle Eddie huffed, and Kat had to remember that once upon a time her mother had been a dark-haired girl in that kitchen, and her dad had been the stray she'd brought home. She watched the two men looking at Hale as if they'd never before laid eyes on him. "He's better-looking than the last vagabond I had to take in," Eddie said, standing and carrying empty bowls to the sink. "I'll give him that. — Ally Carter

I motioned for Slade to pick her up. "Take care of her, will you?" I asked him.
Slade looked down at Katie, still clinging to his legs, and then back at me. A stricken look crossed his face. He leaned toward me and whispered, "Um. To be clear, are you asking me to kill her and dump her body?"
"What? No! Why on earth would you think that?"
Brent cleared his throat. "To a Shadow King, 'taking care of someone' has a very different connotation."
"Oh . . . Oh!" I was going to have to be more careful with my vocabulary choices in the future. — Bree Despain

One day, I spent a long time with Isaac drawing a tea party for dinosaurs. On a huge piece of brown packaging paper we drew allosaurs and tyrannosaurs sitting on little chairs, with hind legs politely crossed — Brooks Haxton

Within, a cheerful bustle in the bar announced the near arrival of opening time. Eight ducks crossed the road in Indian file. A cat sprang up upon the bench, stretched herself, tucked her hind legs under her and coiled her tail tightly round them as though to prevent them from accidentally working loose. A groom passed, riding a tall bay horse and leading a chestnut with a hogged mane; a spaniel followed them, running ridiculously, with one ear flopped inside-out over his foolish head. — Dorothy L. Sayers

INSTRUCTIONS FOR ZAZEN First of all, you have to sit down, which you're probably already doing. The traditional way is to sit on a zafu cushion on the floor with your legs crossed, but you can sit on a chair if you want to. The important thing is just to have good posture and not to slouch or lean on anything. Now you can put your hands in your lap and kind of stack them up, so that the back of your left hand is on the palm of your right hand, and your thumb tips come around and meet on top, making a little round circle. The place where your thumbs touch should line up with your bellybutton. Jiko says this way of holding your hands is called hokkai jo-in,113 and it symbolizes the whole cosmic universe, which you are holding on your lap like a great big beautiful egg. — Ruth Ozeki

When Cole's kisses lingered on her belly button, she crossed her legs.
"Are you okay?" He appeared instantly at her eye level, worried.
"I'm fine. I just, I never let a guy ... um, well, they never wanted to. It's not what I do." Kyle's eyes looked everywhere but his.
"Is it because you don't think you'd like it, or you don't think you deserve it?"
She bit her lip and looked away again. He saw her answer.
"You do deserve it," he said fiercely. "Can I give it to you? — Debra Anastasia

I can cross my arms and I can cross my legs, but nothing seems to cross my mind. — J.R. Rim

That is a society editor, sitting there elegantly dressed, with his legs crossed in that indolent way, observing the clothes the ladies wear, so that he can describe them for his paper and make them out finer than they are and get bribes for it and become wealthy. — Mark Twain

Aiden was staring. So was Caleb, although he looked like he was quite used to all this ... woman on display. Hell, even I was staring.
She crossed the hall, her long legs parting the chiffon of her skirt, playing peekaboo. Dear gods, I felt my cheeks start to burn, but I still couldn't look away. As she neared, her all-white eyes flared, and then dimmed. Two bright, emerald-colored eyes appeared.
Caleb relaxed beside me, a slow smile creeping across his handsome face - the face I'd missed so much. Hello, Persephone. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

The man from lunch - Derek - stood leaning against the column by the steps. The way his arms crossed his chest made his biceps and shoulders appear huge, which made her notice that he'd changed clothes since lunch. The minute his playful gaze landed on her, he pushed off the column.
"Hi," he said, looking sheepish and way sexier than any man had the right to look. From the way his blue jeans hung on his lean hips to the way his navy button-down hugged the muscles of his shoulders and chest to how tall he was, this guy was sex on legs. — Laura Kaye

embroidered Louis XV chair, legs crossed at the — Lauren Willig

Under the table, I crossed my legs so hard it hurt. I was using all the strength it would take to run away, only to stay still. — David Levithan

She sat leaning back in her chair, looking ahead, knowing that he was as aware of her as she was of him. She found pleasure in the special self-consciousness it gave her. When she crossed her legs, when she leaned on her arm against the window sill, when she brushed her hair off her forehead - every movement of her body was underscored by a feeling the unadmitted words for which were: Is he seeing it? — Ayn Rand

She crossed her toothpick legs, and I realized with sickening clarity that she was going commando. — Robyn Peterman

Hermione threw herself down into a chair with her arms and legs crossed so tightly it seemed unlikely that she would unravel them for several years. — J.K. Rowling

You call yourself a gentleman, yet you stare at me." "I never called myself a gentleman." "You are a gentleman and you still stare." "If I do, the fault is your own. You are a complicated lass, Lael Click." She set the dishes down with a clatter. Complicated? She wouldn't ask him to explain himself. She didn't have to. He leaned back against a porch post, stretched his legs, and crossed his shiny black boots. "You went tae one of the finest finishing schools in the colonies, yet I find you barefoot and bonnetless and making social calls tae Indians, wi' your hair down tae boot. And unchaperoned, as weel. — Laura Frantz

When we got to our hotel rooms, mosquitoes as big as George Foreman were waiting for us. They were sitting in armchairs with their legs crossed. — Mel Brooks

And as for the Ellison Fellow's feelings towards Katherine Potter
to be honest, they involve a good deal of confusion. He reacts before Katherine Potter, in fact, as he has reacted before all new, strange (attractive) women who happen, since a certain event, to have crossed his path. He does not know how to deal with them. He is filled with dismay, a giddy sense of arbitrariness, an apprehension that the universe holds nothing sacred; all of which is only to be stilled by the imperative of loyal resistance.
He is not immune to the prickle of passing lust. But he deals defensively with it. He reacts either with disdainful dismissal (Not your type, definitely not your type) or with a rampant if covert seizure of lecherousness (Christ, what tits! What legs! What an arse!), which serves the same forestalling function by reducing its object to meat and its subject (he is past fifty, after all) to a pother of shame. — Graham Swift

All that the unsuspecting Bilbo saw that morning was an old man with a staff. He had a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, a silver scarf over which his long white beard hung down below his waist, and immense black boots.
"Good morning!" said Bilbo, and he meant it. The sun was shining, and the grass was very green. But Gandalf looked at him from under long bushy eyebrows that stuck out further than the brim of his shady hat.
"What do you mean?" he said. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I wish it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"
"All of them at once," said Bilbo. "And a very fine morning for a pipe of tobacco out of doors, into the bargain." Then Bilbo sat down on a seat by his door, crossed his legs, and blew out a beautiful grey ring of smoke that sailed up into the air without breaking and floated away over The Hill. — J.R.R. Tolkien

Ty Walker opened the backdoor to his house and walked in to a big, seriously pissed off black man with tree trunk legs planted apart and beefy arms crossed on his chest. He knew he'd get that when he got home. He also didn't give a fuck. He closed the door and looked Julius in the eye.
"She gone?" he asked.
"You are one serious dumb fuck. — Kristen Ashley

Peeking into the living room through the bathroom's connecting door, she called out, "You gonna be okay out there, Owen?"
He was lying on his back, long flannel-pajama-clad legs crossed at the ankle and arm up over hi head. Cover off to the side. No shirt. Jeez, his chest was broad and defined, stomach cut with ridges of muscles. He turned a lazy gaze from the fire to where she stood in the doorway.
"I'm god. Thank you, for everything."
Good, indeed. She'd never look at that couch the same way again. She hugged herself. "Okay, well, give a shout if yuo need anything, or just help yourself. G'night. — Laura Kaye

When sometimes I am reminded that the mechanics and shopkeepers stay in their shops not only all the forenoon, but all the afternoon too, sitting with crossed legs, so many of them - as if the legs were made to sit upon, and not to stand or walk upon - I think that they deserve some credit for not having all committed suicide long ago. I, — Henry David Thoreau

Jordana is in the umpire's highchair.
I walk under the rugby posts and on to the tennis courts, stopping a few metres in front of her, in the service box.
Her legs are crossed.
I wait for her to speak.
'I have two special skills,' she says.
She pulls a sheaf of papers from under her bum. I recognize the font and the text boxes. It's my pamphlet.
'Blackmail,' she says.
She holds up her Zippo in the other hand. I can tell that she has been practising this.
'And pyromania.'
I am impressed that Jordana knows this word.
'Right,' I say.
'I'm going to blackmail you, Ol.'
I feel powerless. She is in a throne.
'Okay,' I say. — Joe Dunthorne

They crossed before the sun and vanished one by one and reappeared again and they were black in the sun and they rode out of that vanished sea like burnt phantoms with the legs of the animals kicking up the spume that was not real and they were lost in the sun and lost in the lake and they shimmered and slurred together and separated again and they were augmented by planes in lurid avatars and began to coalesce and there began to appear above them in the dawn-broached sky a hellish likeness of their ranks riding huge and inverted and the horses' legs incredibly elongate trampling down the high thin cirrus and the howling antiwarriors pendant from their mounts immense and chimeric and the high wild cries carrying that flat and barren pan like the cries of souls broke through some misweave in the weft of things into the world below. — Cormac McCarthy

It was the seventh or eighth floor, she couldn't remember which. A streetcar crawled past the front of the hotel, and people on the sidewalk moved in every direction, with legs on either side of them, and it crossed her mind to jump. — Patricia Highsmith

Quen's gaze went to Ivy and Jenks.
Peeved, I crossed my legs and shook my head. "We're a team. I'm not asking them to leave so you can tell me of whatever piss-poor problem you've landed yourself in."
The older elf's brow wrinkled. He took an angry breath.
"Look," I said, my finger jabbing out to point at him. "I don't like you. Jenks doesn't like you. And Ivy wants to eat you. Start talking. — Kim Harrison

He followed her into the bathroom and sat on the shut toilet seat while she washed her back with a brush. "I forgot to tell you," he said. "Liza sent us a wheel of Brie." "That's nice," she said, "but you know what? Brie gives me terribly loose bowels." He hitched up his genitals and crossed his legs. "That's funny," he said. "It constipates me." That was their marriage then
not the highest paving of the stair, the clatter of Italian fountains, the wind in the alien olive trees, but this: a jay-naked male and female discussing their bowels. — John Cheever

Theo looked at me with his smoldering Jesus eyes, and the Catholic schoolgirl in me crossed her legs. — Gabrielle Zevin

His legs were still crossed, and his bulge sat atop his crossed thighs, so large it seemed to be taunting her, [...].
"My eyes are up here, you know," Elbryn said in amusement. — Ash Gray

Most of you have been where I am tonight. The crash site of unrequited love. You ask yourself, How did I get here? What was it about? Was it her smile? Was it the way she crossed her legs, the turn of her ankle, the poignant vulnerability of her slender wrists? What are these elusive and ephemeral things that ignite passion in the human heart? That's an age-old question. It's perfect food for thought on a bright midsummer's night. — Sybil Adelman

We are split people. For myself, half of me wishes to sit quietly with legs crossed, letting the things that are beyond my control wash over me. But the other half wants to fight a holy war. Jihad! And certainly we could argue this out in the street, but I think, in the end, your past is not my past and your truth is not my truth and your solution
it is not my solution. So I do not know what it is you would like me to say. Truth and firmness is one suggestion, though there are many people you can ask if that answer does not satisfy. Personally, my hope lies in the last days. The prophet Muhammad
peace be upon Him!
tells us that on the Day of Resurrection everyone will be struck unconscious. Deaf and dumb. No chitchat. Tongueless. And what a bloody relief that will be. — Zadie Smith

Off the street. Out of the wind. Into a bar . . . like a million other bars . . . bottles of lies to ease pain . . . dollar bills traded to dose the dreams of hungry eyes . . . men transmuted from dust . . . women knitted from dead tomorrows, legs crossed, the language of their painted smiles ready to find the other side open . . . — Joseph S. Pulver Sr.

Girls with their legs crossed, girls with their legs not crossed, girls with terrific legs, girls with lousy legs, girls that looked like swell girls, girls that looked like they'd be bitches if you knew them. It was really nice sightseeing, if you know what I mean. In a way, it was sort of depressing, too, because you kept wondering what the hell would happen to all of them. When they got out of school and college, I mean. You figured most of them would probably marry dopey guys. Guys that always talk about how many miles they get to a gallon in their goddam cars. Guys that get sore and childish as hell if you beat them at golf, or even just some stupid game like ping-pong. Guys that are very mean. Guys that never read books. Guys that are very boring - But I have to be careful about that. I mean about calling certain guys bores. I don't understand boring guys. I really don't. — J.D. Salinger

Lucanos nodded [...] 'She's the girl who sees with her heart.'
Aranae rolled all eight of her eyes. She chittered again, in a scolding tone this time. When she finished, she crossed two of her legs and gave Belle a dirty look.
Belle shrank under her disapproving glare, 'What did she say?' she asked timidly.
'She said your heart needs glasses. — Jennifer Donnelly

You dont get your black ass away from this fire I'll kill you graveyard dead. He looked to where Glanton sat. Glanton watched him. He put the pipe in his mouth and rose and took up the apishamore and folded it over his arm. Is that your final say? Final as the judgement of God. The black looked once more across the flames at Glanton and then he moved away in the dark. The white man uncocked the revolver and placed it on the ground before him. Two of the others came back to the fire and stood uneasily. Jackson sat with his legs crossed. One hand lay in his lap and the other was outstretched on his knee holding a slender black cigarillo. The nearest man to him was Tobin and when the black stepped out of the darkness bearing the bowieknife in both hands like some instrument of ceremony Tobin started to rise. The white man looked up drunkenly and the black stepped forward and with a single stroke swapt off his head. — Cormac McCarthy

When Alaska Young is sitting with her legs crossed in a brittle, periodically green clover patch leaning forward in search of four-leaf clovers, the pale skin of her sizable cleavage clearly visible, it is a plain fact of human physiology that it becomes impossible to join in her clover search. — John Green

Have you ever entered a kitchen to find a woman, her legs crossed while the rest of her body is dressed in colourful khanga, smiling at you while her hands are making a melodious song with a coconut grater? Have you ever wondered how any woman size can fit on that grater regardless of their body size? The time for wondering is over. East Africa heartily welcomes you to see for yourself. Go and visit it. — Gloria D. Gonsalves

Aryal yawned. She had stretched out on the floor, her long legs crossed at the ankle. She said in a drowsy voice, I could start bitch-slapping people. Sooner or later somebody would squawk. — Thea Harrison

The Bishop observed later that Trinidad was treated very much like a poor relation or a servant. He was sent on errands, was told without ceremony to fetch the Padre's boots, to bring wood for the fire, to saddle his horse. Father Latour disliked his personality so much that he could scarcely look at him. His fat face was irritatingly stupid, and had the grey, oily look of soft cheeses. The corners of his mouth
were deep folds in plumpness, like the creases in a baby's legs, and the steel rim of his spectacles, where it crossed his nose, was embedded in soft flesh. He said not one word during supper, but
ate as if he were afraid of never seeing food again. When his attention left his plate for a moment, it was fixed in the same greedy way upon the girl who served the table - and who seemed to regard him with careless contempt. The student gave the impression of being always stupefied by one form of sensual disturbance or another. — Willa Cather

Looking puzzled, Rian crossed her legs. "Now that the gates of hell are closed, — Patrick Rothfuss

It would take little effort for her to hurt him right now. She could hurt him badly.
But Griffin King could hurt her, as well, and he hadn't. Instead of using force or violence against her, he used patience and understanding. She had no defense against that.
When he let her go, she was shaking. Tears filled her eyes as she turned to her mother who stood staring at her in horror.
"My sweet little girl," her mother whispered. "I didn't know. I would never ... " Her words faded into a choked sob. Finley crossed the short distance between them on quivering legs and wrapped her arms around the shorter woman. She didn't care if Griffin or his nasty aunt saw her tears. If anything was worth crying over, the discovery that her father had made her a monster had to be one. — Kady Cross

Really it's not deliberate. Sometimes I try really hard to be anything but gay. I watch the other guys - and I know what you're thinking. You think I mean I check them out, and yeah, I can't help but do that too. But what I'm sayin is that I watch the really normal guys, the ones who are into sports, who act all totally straight, and I try to copy them. I try to lower the timber of my voice, not sound so nasally when I talk. I try to gesture with my hands in a manly sorta way instead of all limp-wristed and girly. I try to remember not to sit with my legs crossed, and I try really hard to avoid throwing a ball like a girl. — Jeff Erno

A man can spend several hours sitting cross-legged in the same position if he knows that noting prevents him from changing it; but if he knows that he has to sit with his legs crossed like that, he will get cramps, his legs will twitch and strain towards where he would like to stretch them. — Leo Tolstoy

She swung her legs around his waist and crossed her ankles behind his back. "I like the way your mind works," she panted before losing herself in the sensation of his hardness rubbing against her core. Lief took the few steps across the room to the bed in record time and flung her down on the covers. He leaned back to tear his clothes off. "My mind hardly works at all when you are near." She chuckled leaning back on her elbows, enjoying the view of naked flesh being revealed. She rose up on her knees and traced the ridges on his chest and abdomen. As her fingers trailed down toward his proud shaft, he captured her wrists.

"Be careful." He smiled down at her. "I'm loaded and might go off any minute."

She laughed. "You've been watching too many old Western movies with Harold. — Asa Maria Bradley

I crossed my ankles and noticed his gaze traveling the length of my legs.
"Nice."
"Nice what?"
"Legs. You have nice legs."
"Thanks." Flattery will get him everywhere. — Cathrina Constantine

Lola found herself staring at him when he turned back to the road. He was tall enough that his dark, wavy hair touched the roof of the car, and so broad his sculpted bicep continually brushed against her bare upper arm, sending shivers straight to her nipples and between her legs. She crossed her thighs, disgusted with herself, and vowed not to start lusting after this jerk. — Sweden Reese

The reality was that while they might have eternity, there was violence on the horizon. And in the present. She wasn't intending on ignoring it. She couldn't. But she wasn't going to ignore them either. Just kiss me,
."
A look of hesitation crossed his face, but he didn't push her away. He swept her legs from under her and lifted her into his arms. " -Darkest Mercy (p 28) — Melissa Marr

That left Francesca to slink into the chair opposite us. My feeling of superiority was short-lived, however, when she settled herself down and then crossed her legs.
I didn't need a mirror to know my whole face had just turned red. With a hemline up to her thighs that gesture didn't leave anything to the imagination. Bones curled his fingers around mine and squeezed. His hand was still warmed from our contact moments ago. That's how fast he had to grab me again to keep me sitting where I was instead of yanking off my jacket to make her a pair of panties. — Jeaniene Frost

I'd say ... " Petra crossed her legs, tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "I'd say, I am too fucking fabulous for one gender. Oh, and can we please get rid of the cheesy dance numbers? It's like torture step-ball-change."
"I'd say I am not a race. I am an individual," Nicole said.
Sosie moved her fingers gracefully, but no one understood. She waited for a moment. "I would say, learn to hear me in my own voice. I'm hearing impaired, not invisible. — Libba Bray

She thought. It was nice to watch her thinking. She still had her legs crossed, and still carelessly. — Raymond Chandler

I noticed a copy of X-Men, a Marvel comic he loved, in his backpack, which was lying open on his crossed legs. Sometimes it seemed a part of those characters lived inside him. Peter wasn't your classic knight in shining armor; he was a complex hero full of doubts and conflicting emotions who suffered from unrequited love. — Elisa S. Amore

You see, no one ever told her to keep her legs closed and crossed at the ankles. No one ever said: "Save it for the one you love" or "Good girls say no. — Bernice L. McFadden

O'Mara sat back down and crossed his legs effortlessly. His freshly creased slacks were the color of butterscotch. His wing-tipped loafers were burgundy. He wore no socks. He had on a starched white shirt, open at the throat, and a blue blazer with brass buttons. My clothes must never fit that well, I thought. I'd be overwhelmed with sexual opportunities, and never get any work done. I promised myself to be careful. — Robert B. Parker

I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least - and it is commonly more than that - sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements. You may safely say, A penny for your thoughts, or a thousand pounds. When sometimes I am reminded that the mechanics and shopkeepers stay in their shops not only all the forenoon, but all the afternoon too, sitting with crossed legs, so many of them - as if the legs were made to sit upon, and not to stand or walk upon - I think that they deserve some credit for not having all committed suicide long ago. — Henry David Thoreau

My life is routine. I wake up early in the morning. I brush my teeth. I sit on the floor of the cell I do not go to breakfast. I stare at a gray cement wall. I keep my legs crossed my back straight my eyes forward. I take deep breaths in and out, in and out, and I try not to move. I sit for as long as I can I sit until everything hurts I sit until everything stops hurting I sit until I lose myself in the gray wall I sit until my mind becomes as blank as the gray wall. I sit and I stare and I breathe. I sit and I stare. I breathe. — James Frey

Would you look at that body language? Legs crossed towards each other. That is an unequivocal sex invite. — Cher